Adventures In Awkward Bonding Times
by The Chosen Storyteller
Summary: All Gerome wants is to play his part of an unwilling ally to the Shepherds, save the world and fly away in the night. His "good intentioned" sister, however, has been reading their father's old journal entries and finds out he had hope for the family being close. While Morgan arranges eccentric bonding activities, Gerome's sanity threatens to slip out of his grasp.
1. Prologue

The proper prologue doesn't have to make sense, but I promise you won't find logic here ever. Is that bad? :/

 **DISCLAIMER TIME – "Please have more faith in the actual people who make the games."**

* * *

 _ **Adventures In Awkward Bonding Times**_

 _ **Prologue**_

 _ **( A Fire Emblem fanfiction typed entirely by The Chosen Storyteller )**_

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 **Entry 13**

 **So it's been a while since last entry. Nearly three months, in fact. I haven't much time to sit down and record our progress in the war, not when Chrom keeps finding new conflicts for us to have to resolve that somehow don't connect to the end of the world at all. Hmm.**

 **Oh, I'm not complaining about it. Since I've no idea where I came from or even what led me to that field, if my life IS the Shepherds now then I'm fine with it. There's some weird people in this army, but strangely...It's not so difficult to befriend them once you've stumbled upon a moment they obviously didn't want anyone else to see them in. That sounds shady, doesn't it? It's not what you think; they have their clothes on.**

 **I mean moments like when Chrom and Olivia believe the middle of camp is private enough to suck face in the moonlight. Everyone's gone to bed at that point, and Chrom can assign a different place for the nighttime watch but... Am I the only one seeing this? If so, I don't know what to make of it. They're both shy enough toward the opposite sex, and I don't want to make it worse by explaining I know a better way for them to kiss without Olivia having to strain her toes.**

 **So let's just...cleanse our minds and this journal of that topic. (Burn this later.)**

 **I'm just going to start over on the next page.**

Morgan's eyes flew open as she scanned over that journal entry. When her father allowed her to look through his journal for information about his intense training methods with the magic and the blade, she hadn't expected to find a lot of personal ramblings as if he had one more dimension to his personality.

Did her father even realize he hadn't burned this particular page? Well, the fact this was entry thirteen would imply it had been so long since it was written. Either Robin forgot or...he wanted to keep it around to work up the nerve to tell Olivia to her apple red face that she needed to put on some heeled boots if she wanted some action under the moonlight?

With a quick flick her hand, Morgan hurriedly turned the page a couple of times and regretted nothing. She didn't want to think about that. Not when a certain son of Olivia's had caused her multiple trouble with his shyness before, too...

 **Entry 15**

 **I can't believe I'm actually a father in the future! I mean, when I first noticed my feelings for Cherche I never thought the two of us were going to live long enough to even sleep in the same tent once. What kind of person is our future child?**

 **Well-**

 **The thing is-**

 **I don't even-**

 **Hmm, it's...not easy to describe our son. His name is Gerome, and although it was a huge surprise at first I knew from one look at the familiar wyvern who he was. I just hate that he's not so eager to accept us.**

 **It's been one month since our trip to Wyvern Valley, and during that time I've done my best to try to get to know Gerome in our spare time. We're always on the road now, but I don't see why we shouldn't get to know each other before this war comes to a close.**

 **Gerome won't talk to me or Cherche, nor any of the others who traveled with Lucina. One look from him feels like ice to the spine, and everything he says is in such a flat voice as if he's already decided life is hopeless.**

 **I know my son is an adult at this point, I'd blindly guess he's nineteen. But I feel more like I'm dealing with not just an overgrown thirteen year old, but an overgrown thirteen year old _desperately_ trying to prove that one's strength as a person is determined by caring about nothing and nobody. The dark tones of his clothing also indicates a fashionable "loner" phase, which I've heard is something that a lot of puberty-stricken kids do these days to feel safe in the dark.**

 **Honestly, I can't take Gerome's attempts at shoving us away seriously for one second. It stings to think that my only child doesn't want anything to do with me, yes, but the _way_ he keeps doing it is so over the top that I can't help but grin every time.**

 **It wouldn't be so comical to me if it wasn't just so out of character. One minute he's brooding, and the next he's rubbing Minerva's head and whispering sweet words to her. When I catch him, he nearly jumps out of his skin and starts yelling at the top of his lungs. I don't even believe he knows what he's saying anymore.**

 **There's something strangely satisfying about catching him off guard. I can't tell if it's just out of how easy it is, or if I feel like I'm actually having a father/son moment. I'm the first time father with no tact completely "oblivious" to my adult son nearly boiling himself alive in embarrassment over the simplest things.**

 **Based on who my "father" is, I wonder if it's the evil in my blood that prevents me from letting Gerome know I don't actually want him to spontaneously explode in my presence.**

 **Deep down, I do want him to open up to me though. I don't think I've ever known what it was like to have a father who genuinely loved me, so I'd like to let my own son have a better memory. Even if he's from the future and probably set in his ways, I'd do anything to guide him to the path of accepting me. I'd say the same about Cherche, but as I write this I actually overhear Cherche asking him if he wants to fly with her. I'm going to assume they're really going to fly together; it's better than Gerome closing his heart.**

 **Maybe Gerome was closer to Cherche in the future? I don't know who my mother was, so I can't understand what that would feel like. But I imagine it must be nice, and Cherche glows when she manages to provoke a hostile "what do you want" out of him at the very least.**

 **If I ever make more progress in bonding with him, I'll be quick to record it. After all, I intend for the world to stay around longer for some pickpocket to take this journal out of my bag in the first place.**

Morgan couldn't begin to understand all of the feelings she picked up from reading that one entry. For one moment she actually forgot she was supposed to be reading the entries about his training methods; all of the hope he had for Gerome managed to get to her heart at the very least.

Before Morgan could even think to place the journal down to go outside for some fresh air, a pair of arms loosely circled her neck and soon the warmth of someone's breath tickled her cheek and ear.

"What are you doing cooped up in your tent all by yourself?" Never mind that there could be a ton of sensual answers, although that was probably what he was looking for judging by tone.

Morgan couldn't help but smile, nearly dropping the journal as she began to move. She had been sitting on her knees on her cot, so Inigo unfortunately had to let go so she could turn herself around and face him. But...you know, when all of that tense adjusting was over then a spark returned between them.

Nothing had to be said. No one had to connect their faces with their arms. Inigo simply pressed his lips to hers, doing his best give the impression of a small hello kiss. After all, the sun hadn't left yet. For one moment, the only thing that mattered was Inigo and Morgan.

And then Morgan suddenly drew her lips back, nervous chuckles rising in her throat. "Do you mind if I finish what I've started, first? I won't be long; I just want to be sure."

"Oh, well...alright." Inigo felt the smile on his way instantly die, but he claimed a seat at her side anyhow. "Don't mind me; I'm disgustingly unimportant."

"Thanks! You're a treasure!" Morgan eagerly ignored Inigo, and picked up the journal once more.

 **Entry 20**

 **I don't know what I'm going to do with Morgan anymore; no one except Gerome knows what to make of her anyway. It was stunning to realize I actually have two kids, but at the same time I guess having a big family isn't so bad as I've heard. Plus, Morgan means well even if she has a blunt method of showing it.**

 **The only problem is that Morgan wearing her heart on her sleeve means she's prone to doing things like upsetting some of her fellow companions from the future. They mostly stay out of her way, but she runs up to them all the time insisting that she can help them with their problems. Noire seems to tolerate her, and I may even go far as to say Noire and Morgan can actually be considered friends in a weird point of view.**

 **Recently, Morgan has been claiming that she can "hook up" some of the couples around here like I did. Well...I don't remember being a matchmaker at any point; I mean, I once told Chrom that he shouldn't talk about how many risen he's killed when he's having a flirty moment with Olivia but...you know. That was just for, um, the army's benefit. What, you don't believe me? Well, have you seen the way these two destroy anything that dares to lift a hand? It's amazing! It's as if the power of love is summoned through their weapons, and when you dare put a sword to Chrom's throat then you'd better make peace before timid and shy Olivia bolts over and beheads you in a rain of blood instead.**

 **In that sense, I can agree with Morgan. But I still had to scold her when I saw how she actually cornered Owain and left him struggling to find a reaction hot blooded enough to respond to her shouting about how Noire obviously loved him, and if he was a (censored for your sanity) of a man then he'd (hello censorship, my dear friend) like consequences don't exist.**

 **Ugh, I don't want to think about what I heard anymore... I'm going to bed, and then I'll burn this for real next time.**

With trembling hands, Morgan slammed the journal shut fast as possible. "I don't believe this!"

Inigo's head once propped on his palm fell to the cot, and he blinked rapidly and looked around. "How much clothing is left? We started with-"

"Look at this!"

The journal connected with Inigo's face, though Morgan did squeak out an apology when he rolled off the cot from the exhausted haze. She really hadn't meant for that, so she did drop to her knees and rub the future bruise on his temple.

Several minutes of suffering and lame methods of healing later, and Morgan properly directed Inigo past the explanations of why some spells were just natural winners to the entry she had been reading. Even after Inigo read the whole entry twice, he still had no idea what to make of it...especially not what his girlfriend had been getting into recently. He wanted the uncensored version.

"Father said he was going to write down more about his attempts to make Gerome open up, but he hasn't mentioned him since. Why would he talk about me when Gerome is the one he needs to worry about?"

Oh, that's what she was referring to. Inigo felt somewhat disappointed, but...it wasn't as though he couldn't fully comprehend where she was going with it. Although one should never place the name Gerome alongside "open up".

Morgan dropped her gaze to the 'floor', nervously twiddling her fingers. "Large amounts of time seem to have passed between entries, so what does that mean? It's possible that Father gave up on Gerome; it's not as though you ever see them talking or looking like father and son."

"We don't know for sure. It's also possible they have gotten closer, but Robin respects his allergy to human contact."

"No one in the family is allergic to human contact. It's all Gerome, so...don't you think this is a problem?"

Inigo still rubbed at the sore spot on his head, trying to look away. He couldn't look at Morgan, though he wanted to. But he knew that if he looked, he'd seal his fate by getting himself involved in a subject that didn't really need his help. A smart person would bolt from the tent, give her some space to think about what she'd seen and come to terms on her own.

Of course, then Inigo looked. He turned to see Morgan _looking so troubled, worried. She was concerned about what would happen to her family, and if something did and she had to survive then she would nearly be driven to tears. And he really didn't want to see her cry. No, she looked her best when she was grinning from ear to ear, all teeth on display. She needed to be happy-_ Inigo shuddered and looked away again.

"Do you want to know the way I see the situation?"

Morgan's arms fell flat, and she curiously looked up at Inigo. It was kind of strange to see him force his head to look toward the left, shuddering and looking prepared to spontaneously explode.

"Gerome never had skill in handling his emotions. His method of coping is pretending he feels nothing, but for everyone in our group he might actually have more emotions than all of us. I can't be sure, but it's always a valid option." Inigo hesitated on a few words, occasionally choking on air alone. Sometimes it even looked like smoke was rising from his ears, like his brain was being all 'nope'. " **Realistically** , there's still a chance your parents can both get through to him. I've seen Robin and Cherche around camp, and they both act like they're always hiding world-shattering secrets from people. They're competent when it comes to life."

"But despite all of that, it's still possible for them to never grow close."

"No, you deserve to be close as much as the others." Inigo's headache had not gotten any better, but he leaned over to Morgan and brushed his hand through her hair on the sides of her face softly. Hopefully getting through. "Besides, the Morgan I know isn't going to rest until she distorts the world itself if it means bringing her family together."

"What is that even supposed to mean?" Morgan's eyes flew open, wide and concerned with good reason.

"I...will never understand." Inigo moved his hand low to her shoulder and clasped it anyhow. "You can always interpret it as: 'Morgan is such a believer in family relationships that she would flip the world upside down, ground and sky reversed if it would make people see another point of view'. Please **stop** me."

"That still doesn't make any sense, but at least you try." Morgan's voice still didn't have her usual confidence in it, but her expression became much softer. One of her hands reached to Inigo's and brushed it with all the awkward affection she usually had. "You're making me open my eyes about this whole problem, too. Thanks to you, I know what must be done."

"I'll always be here to heeellll..." Inigo swore his life flashed before his eyes as he spoke, his voice rapidly turning unnecessarily hoarse. "What does that mean?"

"You just inspired me, silly!" Morgan failed to take notice of Inigo's tragic look, moving in close and planting a grateful kiss to his forehead.

"I really don't think-"

"All this time, I thought I should be trying to live up to Father's role in this army. Not only is he a beast when it comes to a fight, but he's also got some skills in convincing people to get married. I thought I should focus my attention on that, becoming a master tactician and matchmaker to save us all."

"Uh, I think dinner should be ready by now-"

"Father is so amazing that I'll have to put that goal on hiatus. The most important goal right now is to bring my family closer together! When it's all over, I can say that the only guy who's ever been able to compete with Father in super-amazing-badass levels inspired me!"

Inigo dropped his arms to the ground, finding himself slumping and just staring at the inspired form of Morgan. She was glowing and smiling, so confident that what she was saying made any sense. It was like dealing with a crazy person _yet the more he looked, the less he could deny what her happy mood did to both his mind and the atmosphere around them. Morgan was supposed to be a never-ending blast of sunshine – kind of annoying when you have a hangover, but when all's said and done that's the first thing people mention when describing positive things. The world needs sunshine. Even if Morgan made everyone's brains burst, she was still trying to do the right-_

"What do you say, Inigo?"

Inigo kept gnawing on the hand he'd been shoving over his mouth, desperate not to say a word. Clearly, he'd done more damage than he could have dreamed when he first walked in. All he wanted was a romantic moment with her. Not a lot of family drama. He couldn't respond, no, he wouldn't allow-

Morgan moved to the side he turned his head, causing Inigo to realize how far away she'd managed to move while he was lost in the worst places of his mind Morgan outstretched her hand, wearing _such a bright smile that it was indeed blinding to look at. But Inigo was foolish, many people would say that. Maybe he was burning his eyes, but he'd tend to that later. For now, he wanted to keep a grasp on the sight of that smile. Morgan didn't even look hopeful, just knowing. She knew he wouldn't resist, but he knew the same._

"This must be the 'dangerous fate' your brother warned me about." Inigo sighed deeply, feeling like a total idiot as he reached out as well and took her hand. It was the least platonic handshake in the world with Morgan shamelessly feeling his wrist up, but it was a start.

What this was all starting, Inigo had no idea but he was afraid he would have more of a role to play than he was certain he wanted. He didn't want to help her force her family to get along – no one can expect good results from that. Families naturally have to work through their struggles, deciding along the way if blood really matters to them. However, he did want Morgan to be happy just like the other parents and children. Just like his family, which Morgan and Robin seemed to both obsess over for some reason.

"Trust me, Inigo." Morgan totally didn't read his mind, she was just lucky. Confidence seemed to take a visible, sparkly form as it bounced up and down in her eyes. "As soon as Gerome notices how far we're going, he'll be so baffled that he'll learn to open his heart in no time. When that happens, Father and Mother can join in and strike the weakest spot."

* * *

 _ **And so it continues on...**_

 _ **Wherever it's going, Morgan could destroy the world as we know it...**_

* * *

This story wasn't meant to actually have a lot at first. I didn't even intend to publish it because when I wrote the first version it was just me using Fire Emblem characters as a sort of placeholder for a scene to another story I was writing at the time. Don't ask for a logical description of that, because it's difficult for me to explain. –.–; I do weird things, and sometimes those weird things birth a story.

Since Awakening's release, there must be a million stories about the parents and children trying to bond. I'm not even exaggerating. I'm well aware this is not an original plot by any means, and if you've read 1 story where they try bonding then you've probably seen mine. I'm not going to lie and say that I'll be able to write something so fresh that people will copy it for generations, no.

For some reason, I just really like writing Awakening's characters. A lot of them are so socially awkward and really lacking in self esteem, but I can totally feel their pain when they're forced into ridiculous situations or suddenly have an emotional outburst. I'm trying to write them a little less exaggerated here, but I feel like at some point everything's going off the rails because I can't help myself when it comes to Morgan and Inigo having some moments here and there.

Thank you for suffering through this overly-long prologue. I want to say that you'll be rewarded with a much better story, but honestly I'm not confident at all. Still, there's always a chance that I can surprise myself and just have fun with it anyhow. Really, that's what writing's all about: have some flippin' fun for once in your miserable life.

The Chosen Storyteller is signing out now~ Remember to never encourage crazy people, and have a mostly decent life~


	2. Soul Baring For Beginners

This escalated far too quickly. All I could think to do was bring it to your attention, **and** hide under my desk. It's cozier under here than I realized, but anyhow! Anyhow, I apologize if Gerome's too much of a drama queen here... Although I personally think he has no excuse for reacting the way he does in his supports with his father. Technically, there can be an argument for Gerome being a drama queen, right?

Also, I'd like to point out that I've taken some liberty when it comes to the timeline. Unless my eyes were just too dry from playing Awakening until like 4 in the morning AGAIN, to me the game does jack to even slightly give a coherent explanation of the timeline. With nothing to really go with, I pretty much added a layer of sugarcoating to the future kids' early childhood in giving them at least a few years with their parents before they died.

Hopefully, you understand why I want to add even the smallest layer of sugar on the future kids' situation. Awakening, for me at least, has too much feels.

* * *

 _ **Adventures In Awkward Bonding Times**_

 _ **Chapter 1: "Soul Baring For Beginners"**_

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"This book is bound to tell us everything we need." With that, Morgan blew off some dust over the cover and set the freakishly sized book down on her lap painfully. "If Anna's sister was just giving it away, you KNOW it must be valuable."

"That might not sound so weird coming from anyone else, but I've seen one of her sisters wrestle your father for one piece of gold she saw first."

Morgan looked up to Inigo suddenly, eyebrows connecting in displeasure.

"Your father won." Inigo threw up his arms before his face defensively, just... He was not going to get hit by a book again even if the first time was an accident. We know how to make things look like accidents in this army.

In any case, Morgan did eventually sigh and force her fingers to comb through the pages. It looked as if the book hadn't been read in centuries, but when Anna's sister lost the imp smile in favor of an almost sympathetic one when she mentioned what she was going to use the contents for... Clearly, there was still some worth to it. Appearances are deceiving, get that moral out of the way...

"So this book is about the human mind?" The words clumsily tumbled as Inigo crawled over and claimed a seat next to Morgan. He looked over her shoulder, squinting at rather faded text.

Morgan shook her head though, before standing the book up and pulling it closer so she could actually make out the text as well.

"Please don't tell me we spent the last four nights scribbling out a plan for nothing." Inigo got friendly with despair for a moment, gloomily resting his head chin on her shoulder. "If we don't make Gerome feel comfortable hugging everyone in the family, I'm going to lose my mind-"

"Sister didn't really have a book on the human mind, but she said this novel of 'escapist fiction' can be used as suggestion for how to go about our plan." Morgan's tone lifted to its usual bubbly level, and she eagerly flipped pages again.

"Well, I have to admit that doesn't sound- Escapist fiction?!"

"I know what you mean! Once we restore the text to its true form, we'll be making intense progress!"

* * *

As usual, Gerome's evening had been nothing but tossing turning. Sometimes he tried to play up his relations and be an idiot about it; "I'll go to sleep if I make myself think the world really is at peace for now, and I'm totally not selfish at all by taking myself out of killing sprees and fires in the villages. Go team."

Gerome didn't need to see his own reflection to know that his eyes must have been crimson. He felt every inch of them burn when he turned his toward the direction of the sunlight, and no matter how much he blinked there was just no moisture around to save the day. He had been awake pretty all night, and he wanted to die.

Alright, well death was a just a suggestion. Not that he approved of that sort of thing... Buuut if the world would be so kind- Alright no, that's terrible.

In his head, Gerome already made the list of what sucked the most about sleeping arrangements. They included but were not limited to: not being allowed to contact the closest mage studying the dark arts for some help with closing his eyes, a very lumpy cot, blankets that were far too thick to be comfortable in this warmer weather, and not getting a break from listening to couples in tents nearby get frisky.

If he had his way, Gerome would have been content to lie there tangled up in the world's most uncomfortable blankets and burying his face into his arms to save himself from the sunlight. Maybe that was like something out of a terrible poem, maybe not. In any case, he wasn't going to leave his tent for ANYTHING-

"Gerome?" Lucina's voice penetrated the exaggerated depression, with the melody of an imaginary harp to back it up.

Gerome still wasn't giving any Fs, mind you. He- He was still being a rebel, and rising from the blankets in a hurry was in no way damaging the resistance he'd managed to craft. Don't even try to compare him to a weak person.

"I'm sorry if I woke you." Lucina was ready to get crap accomplished, apparently. She didn't even wait for a reply, merely continuing to speak presumably very close to the 'doors'. "There is an important matter I was asked to bring to your attention. Whenever you have the time, meet me just on the outskirt of camp." With that, the sound of leaves crunching indicated Lucina took her leave as fast as she approached.

Gerome, meanwhile, felt he had gotten high off her voice alone. Not that it was problem; you like what you like, no? It just so happened that her voice was the only to convince him to throw the blankets off entirely and go through his morning preparations at a surprisingly fast pace like life had meaning again.

" _She's not going to invite you for a romantic stroll, sick madman._ " Gerome, being the master of pep talks, kept that thought in his mind as he dressed and adjusted the mask perfectly over his **scorching** eyes. " _It's Lucina, you know? She's going to talk about something her father said concerning morale, food, assembling a choir to go cheer up people nearby suffering from poverty..._ "

Gerome couldn't say he liked the idea of someone trying to communicate first thing in the morning, but if it was Lucina then he couldn't complain too much about it. He was disgusted by human contact, but he wasn't too much of a whiny child usually. Right? Seriously, he needed reassurance.

* * *

When Gerome arrived at the outskirt of camp, he didn't really know what he had been expecting. Either the day would end on a pleasant or sour note, regardless of what actually happened during his encounter with Lucina. First things first: everything got weird when he stepped into the much brighter area without many trees.

There was a single wooden table set up for some reason, littered with four bags that were open and had what looked to be paper and quills falling out. As far as the rest of the bags' contents, there were still bulges at the end to suggest more useless items were inside but Gerome really didn't want to make his head split open from thinking too much.

Of course the tension did settle. Eventually. Lucina managed to walk over to Gerome and, um, taking his hand once she was close to him was necessary.

Of course, Gerome's heart began to race, but he reminded himself of one thing: " _Unlike Morgan, you actually have some self control. Also, if you give in to immature puppy love then eff you._ "

"They're coming." Well, that wasn't ominous at all. In any case, Lucina kept a brave face as she whispered her warning. "Robin and Cherche have agreed to meet you here, and they will be creepy about it but you have to stay strong. You have to endure any and all cringe-inducing moments if you want to succeed."

Gerome's hand felt like it was burning in hers, but more importantly reality smashed into his head and possibly caused him to lose more brain cells than he cared to count.

"Don't tell me..."

"Gerome, I'm sorry. Also from another point of view, I can have sympathy."

"But you're still warning me about them..."

"I know they make you uncomfortable."

"If I can get to Minerva fast enough, I can escape-"

"Don't be hasty!"

Gerome cringed slightly, able to withdraw his hand despite there being no reason to. Lucina looked mostly under control despite that outburst, only folding her arms and walking to the nearest tree to lean against.

"I know that Robin is a confusing mess, and Cherche can come across as too smug sometimes. Also, Morgan is... Um... **Anyway** , you're still lucky that you do have a family."

"Everyone tells me the same thing. What makes you think one more lecture will be any different?" Did that sound hostile? Gerome wanted to kick himself, but decided to save it.

Somehow, Lucina radiated composure despite the look of mortification crossing over her face again. The day was filled with conflict and bottled feelings, but it wasn't even in the afternoon yet. Screw everything.

Gerome huffed, swirling away and leaning against a trunk himself. "How can you possibly feel anything after hearing the news that your parents threw their lives away?"

"They're still the same parents we loved before. You think taking a few streaks of gray hair off changes who they are? Robin is still obsessed with Chrom, and Cherche is still acting like she could be the really important factor in the end of the world."

"I don't have the ability to love."

"So when you were five years old, you constantly made every excuse in the world to hug Cherche because...?"

Gerome's hand dug into the trunk, any splinters received totally ignored as he clawed in.

"Also, that's one detail Morgan doesn't know." Even in her voice, Lucina sounded like she was fighting back a smile. "For your sake, I pray she never finds out. Hopefully you understand what I'm trying to say? If Morgan attempts to make you break, don't give in."

"Are you going to finally choose between lecturing me on the importance of family and giving a warning?"

"I tried to be subtle."

Gerome used his free hand to bury his face into, but just for good measure he did deepen his fingernails into the trunk before turning around. The very instant he did so, he cracked open an eye to peek through his fingers and see Lucina's boots. Then he looked higher at her terrified expression- Huh?

"They're here." With that, Lucina pat his shoulder and she zoomed away. She was NOT staying for the absolute insanity that she knew was coming.

Gerome was left sputtering nonsense, hands waving everywhere in some kind of disturbed spasm as he watched Lucina kick up some dust in just how fast she was running. It wasn't long before she was just a speck, far away from the scene and unable to help him figure out what was even happening.

A big yawn was let out, and that sound forced Gerome to turn toward the table again. That was when he saw it. That was when he considered running as well, but gave up because obviously he loved punishment. He had an incurable desire to be constantly shoved into situations he wanted no part in. It was fantastic.

In any case, Robin stumbled into the scene letting out a series of smaller yawns and generally looking unkempt and recently dragged out from the depths of hell. Cherche had her arm locked with his though, guiding him along and positively glowing as if that didn't look weird at all.

No, no that was alright. Their conflicting appearances were so normal that it caused Lucina to flee out of the horror that she just could be unfit to look right at it. That was a typical occurrence never.

"What are you doing here?" Even to Gerome, he thought his tone was perfectly irate.

"I would have been sleeping longer if Morgan hadn't personally shouted through the tent to meet her here." Robin answered quickly, rubbing his knuckle over his eye. He was just awful.

Cherche guided Robin over to the table and she dropped him there. It was okay because Robin apparently didn't know the meaning of retiring early, either that or the two of them had been... Oh gods, no Gerome didn't need the images. It was lack of sleep. It had to be.

"I'd ask if you've seen Morgan, but from what I could see it looked like you were having a pleasant talk with Lucina."

"Are they together? Is that one more piece of drama I don't have to deal with?" Robin groaned into the table, words somehow still audible.

Gerome's hands clenched to fists, and he wondered how long it would be before he bolted as well.

"How was the talk?" Cherche smiled her usual friendly, yet **oh so knowing** smile. She appeared as if an eternally supportive mother and not at all teasing, really. "It's not every day I see you together. If that was what Morgan wanted us to see, my expectations were not at all impossible."

"I will personally rip all these trees out of the ground if you won't shut your **stupid** -"

"TIME TO BEGIN!" Morgan's voice suddenly rang from nowhere.

"We're really doing this? I can't get a few more minutes of sleep?" Robin rubbed his eyes again, though afterward he did push his hands against the table and try to stand up properly.

Gerome never wished for the world to split open and suck everyone into hell more than he did that morning.

* * *

Perhaps he should have stopped and asked himself if he was being rational, but then he would make the argument that Morgan was his sister. How could someone related to some **thing** such as Morgan ever be rational? He could call himself sane all he wanted, but he'd always be dragged down by her craziness.

After Morgan stepped into the light, she strolled up to that table with such a passionate spark in her eyes. She was up to something, and gods bless Lucina she could not prepare Gerome for what horror would take place. Morgan took the bags effortlessly, despite the fact they looked to have weight to them.

From then on, Gerome did his best to be mute and turn his ears off. It was more difficult to not say anything, even if he had some choice words stuck in his throat threatening to finally be uttered where everyone within so many miles of this camp could hear and offer some help. As for his ears, well unfortunately they were still in good condition and could make out every horrid word that fell out of Morgan's mouth.

Apparently, Morgan had gotten the idea to have them bare their souls to each other. There was some book about a man who didn't get along with his parents despite the fact they loved him more than anything in the world, and once he got news they were dying of a mysterious illness a scolding voice in his head told him to not let his parents leave the world without knowing his side of the story. The man followed a siren of a woman, who would become the obvious plot twist that she was his conscience personified, to the little cottage where they lived and... Well in any good story, there would have been conflict. The way Morgan told it, there was nothing stopping the man from confessing to his parents and them accepting an apology from him. So basically, the story was the worst in existence.

Somehow, they all wound up at the edge of the river when Morgan was finished explaining the story. She had been walking in between her parents, grabbing one of their arms and guiding them along helplessly. The only reason Gerome followed at all was because of Cherche getting a handful of his collar last minute.

The bags that were once nearly falling out from Morgan's armpits finally met the ground. Morgan spun around excitedly, facing her three captives who sank to their knees in whatever places they were standing before.

"Wait until you hear the story of how-"

"NO!"

Gerome actually felt his eyes widen when he turned to look toward a rather panicked Robin.

Morgan's delighted expression faltered, but she didn't say anything else so that was a victory.

In any case, Robin caught him himself never by lifting his head back to Morgan and laughing nervously. "You need to save your voice. Why don't we just perform this, er, ritual of yours? I think it's a ritual? I didn't get much information from the story."

"That's a wonderful idea." Cherche added in, clasping her hands less like she was happy and more like praying desperately for a distraction. "The sooner we get all the unpleasant feelings out, the sooner I can go let Minerva spread her wings a little."

"Oh don't worry, Mother." Morgan waved her hand dismissively, giggling. "All we're going to do is the simplified version. I'm confident you'll all pick up on it quick!"

"Or we'll go insane." Gerome couldn't be sure anyone heard him; he'd muttered that comment.

With that, Morgan fell to her knees just like everyone else and withdrew some paper and very small boxes from the bags. There looked to be quills, rocks, and cheaply made necklaces in some of them. Only Cherche dared to briefly ask what those things were for, but Morgan only replied that if all went well today she wouldn't need the stuff. Make of that what you will, but when Gerome briefly met Cherche's eyes he couldn't deny she was genuinely expecting the worst.

"I asked Lucina to tell me some details of what our family was like in the future. What it was like before the, um, untimely death and whatnot." Morgan kept up a cheerful smile, handing out three pieces of paper to her family each, but taking great care not to accidentally show another what was scribbled on them. "We are going to exchange these important details to each other in a circle, one by one showing the details no matter what we personally think of it. And when we run out of material, it's time for hugs and cuteness!"

"This was nothing to do with soul bar-"

"Please Gerome, if it makes her happy-"

"Will you two allow her to speak? Minerva must be so lonely!"

"Of course I care about Minerva! Why do you think I want this shit to-"

"Gerome! Swearing gives you one penalty!" Morgan made her worst pouting face, air audibly rushing into her nostrils and everything. "You DON'T want to know what happens when you get three penalties."

"I don't even care! This is all bull-"

"For the love of whatever god is looking down at us right now, I'm sorry for anything I've done that would make me deserve this by the by, **let your sister speak**..."

Everyone looked toward Robin suddenly, any previous frustration and anxiety crashing to a halt like a bunch of wagons nearly toppling over a cliff. Robin found himself on his hands and knees, gasping for breath because acting dramatic can take a lot of energy and he didn't have time for that shi-aaaah... Well, he was just done with all of this. Absolutely finished. Was the war over?

"Alright, this is freaking me out." Total understatement. Nevertheless, Morgan reverted to chirpy and eagerly finished her task by giving Robin his three papers.

Soon enough, everyone had their papers and they all wished they could be doing something else. But it was obvious from the less than amused expressions they wore that they really wanted to get this over with. Gerome still didn't know if this counted as baring one's soul; it really did appear to be more of a comparison marathon than anything else, but at that point his head was hurting and... Ugh...

Morgan's handwriting wasn't good at all, but Gerome looked over the three papers nonetheless. He cringed so hard.

 **Robin and Cherche bet some gold on what Gerome's first word would be. Robin claimed Father, and Cherche claimed wyvern due to her nonstop soothing when little Gerome couldn't sleep because of the loud screeching outside.**

 **Cherche wound up owing Robin one hundred gold.**

It only got worse from there on the second paper...

 **Gerome had a huge case of puppy love for Lucina, never able to properly express it but still confiding to Cherche that he wanted to know how a nobody could win over royalty.**

And yet, the absolute worst was...

 **When Gerome was five, during a visit to the castle he wandered away from Robin and Chrom in order to find a place to relieve his bladder. Their conversation seemed too important to interrupt, after all. He got lost, not knowing he was two rooms away from the exit. Time had run out, unfortunately the only option he had involved the rather expensive flower vase-**

" _KILL ME!_ "

Gerome crumpled the papers into his palm, shuddering and forcing himself to keep his eyes on the ground. It was stupid to care so much, but... Come on, if they really had to be his parents then they didn't need to know anything like this. It wasn't any of their business seeing as they would have a different son entirely if they lived long enough, and that son would have his own series of cringe-inducing experiences in his early stages.

"Alright Gerome, please exchange with Moth-"

"No."

Morgan's face scrunched up in sheer lack of amusement.

As some kind of rebellious move, Gerome looked back up at Morgan with his cheeks all puffy as he tried to hold a pout of his own on his face.

Cherche and Robin merely backed up a little more, silently agreeing to bolt if the worst came to be.

"Mother, why don't you exchange with Gerome? He's being STUBBORN, and RUDE. The PIG."

"I can feel the love." Cherche's conflicted face would imply otherwise, but she still turned to Gerome and offered the papers to his outstretched and trembling hand.

Gerome swiped the papers quickly, crumpling the others underneath one knee for protection purposes. He looked over the next three, heartbeat ringing louder in his ears all the way.

 **When Cherche found out she was pregnant, she denied becoming one of those paranoid mothers who thought taking one step on stable earth would harm the baby. Anyone who knew her before were well aware that she was just putting up a very see through shield.**

That wasn't really so bad at first, right? Gerome honestly wondered why some form of emotion was trying to rise from the depths of hell at that, but then realized the torture was only beginning.

 **Legend says that when Cherche was able to hold her newborn son for the first time, that was the only moment she'd lost her composure. You know this woman: she's never even slightly bothered by events, and even the pregnancy didn't have her lose _too much_ hair over concern despite the aforementioned see through shield. For once, silent tears were leaking from her eyes and not just from the general suffering of birth itself.**

Of course the final nail in the coffin was...

 **An even more obscure legend says that the first parent who Gerome looked at with open eyes for the first time was Robin, and Robin never let anyone forget that. Chrom was sick of talking to him for the next month because it seemed all Robin could do was gush about how beautiful-**

"I'm leaving."

"Nooo, you have to stay where you are so Mother and Father can see those papers-"

"You can't make me do any of this! How many times do I have to avoid all of you before you take a hint?! Take one damned hint for once in your-"

"That's two-"

Gerome made some kind of animal-like growl, something that made Morgan drop her wagging finger to the ground and then send her sinking all the way down onto her front with her chin breaking through dirt.

Of course Robin leapt into action. He threw himself between his kids, tiredness suddenly removed from his face. "Gerome, we're all really hungry right now. I know this isn't easy for you, and I don't know why Morgan has to bring all of this up now but- Come on, why don't you lighten up?"

Gerome was releasing so much air from his nostrils, possibly letting out some flames from that general location as well. Still, his chest rose and fell too much for him to speak. His emotional outburst simply wasn't going to allow him to give context.

"You don't even have to hand me the papers. I'll grab them, eyes closed the whole time, and then only slightly look over the contents. I promise I won't speak of it out loud, and take great care to never do it around you even by accident." Cherche joined Robin, though mostly acting as a barrier between the siblings.

"You saw enough! That's all you're ever going to see!"

"That's the hunger talking. Now come on, let's not scream unnecessarily." Robin flashed a smile, the tiredness returning that made him look more like a struggling parent. Still, like every other time he dealt with him despite Gerome's extreme reactions his eyes glittered with affection nonetheless.

Gerome swore something in him snapped when he saw that look. He would have believed it to be his brain, no question there. But there was also a feeling that could only be described as familiarity passing by. His real father, bad future Robin, gave him the same kind of look. Gerome couldn't recall the time or place, but just as Morgan could only recall a single memory of Cherche he could put himself in that time with Robin being exhausted with his son's actions but at the same time just being content with this parent role.

Gerome quickly gathered the papers though, everyone's papers. Collections of disapproving comments arose, but he tuned them out and made sure that they were harshly crumpled to the point of at least some damage. Of course he couldn't do anything about them, and he didn't trust his trembling hands to be able to properly make a tear down the middle in between all the more painful details.

"It's not the best system, I know. I had good intentions, Gerome!" Morgan stuck her head through the gap between Robin and Cherche's arms and sides, eyebrows knitting all seriously. "How much torture do you have to put yourself through before you figure out how much our parents mean to you?!"

"These two?! It sounds like you'd be better off if you realized your parents are long dead, and these two are cheap imitations! They can't give you any real love because they don't know you! The real Robin and Cherche would know how to comfort me!"

"But you're not difficult to understand." Robin spoke up...not as dramatic as he hoped. All eyes moved to him as he continued, assurance dripping off his tone. "I didn't know for sure at first, but I understand now. You're a loving person, it's just not your style to be so bold about it. Still, when you yell at me I feel like deep down you know whenever I act stupid I'm just-"

"Stuff that away for your next before-the-final-battle speech."

Morgan turned to Cherche, most likely expecting her to add in some comments. But she didn't know why she was doing so; Cherche was nothing but composure once more, keeping her eyes on her family and not trying to make this mood even worse by saying something that could embarrass her in hindsight. It was a bold move, and something Morgan just wasn't suited for.

"Don't you see two of us and feel anything other than disgust? If you feel nothing, removing that mask and looking right in our eyes should be the easiest thing in the world." Robin added in last-minute, though still sounding certain he had the upper hand.

Gerome hurriedly threw himself back, trying not to shudder too much despite Morgan's questioning if needed her to stir another breeze to rise some flames for his own burn. Ignoring how ridiculous that question was and how it should be buried under the earth never to be uttered for as long as time continued, he swore he felt like he could pass out.

"Everyone knows that you don't wear a mask unless you want to hide your identity or cover up your true emotions." Robin was apparently a master on the subject of masks, saying all of that crap like it was fact.

Gerome squeezed his eyes shut, clasping his hands tighter on the stupid papers that were already crushed between his hands.

"Besides, I bet Cherche on whose eyes you inherited. Don't let me go on being proud for no reason."

"Father! Look at his shaking; he's totally going to give in!"

"Don't listen to them, Gerome. I would like to see your eyes as well, but this has nothing to do with the situation. Don't do anything you might regret, okay?"

Gerome found the moisture in his eyes he'd previously lacked. He grit his teeth so hard that he actually felt like he was biting down on them, resorting to anything to keep himself from launching at his parents and "doing something he might regret". Yeah, the last thing he wanted was to imply he was willing to look beyond all the suffering they'd given him. When his eyes were meant to be dried up, never able to let anything past.

For fu- Those weren't tears, were they? Tears for WHAT? The real people who deserved this kind of reaction for were long dead, and it didn't matter anymore. It was too late to grieve, but then again Gerome wondered if he was the only person who'd ever bothered to do so in the first place. Who else was going to have the decency to remember the fallen? Oh wait, there was no one because the world went to hell.

What could he do about the tears? They'd surely start dripping down his face with his head lowered like that, and of course he had to sniffle. Of. Course. One sniffle led to his nose even embarrassingly- How could the day be any worse? How many hours were left?

"Don't follow me." With that, Gerome stood and turned away from them. He kept crushing all the papers to the best of his ability, though hopefully the NOT tears falling on them would wash off the ink.

Morgan made some kind of whine in the back of her throat, but otherwise joined her parents in standing as well. She walked right over to Gerome and did the only thing she could think of.

If someone's having an emotional breakdown in front of you, the best course of action is to totally throw out your arms and embrace them. Don't say you've never done the same. When someone's got a sword pointed right at you, you hug that person with your chest and stomach just slightly turned away from the tip of the blade. If there's a lance or axe, well consider yourself screwed then.

"Let all your emotions-"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Okay, angry five year old. What-

Gerome wound up breaking free of the arms clasped around his waist, and he didn't really know how much force he'd put into his escape but he did hear Morgan grunt and land on the ground. Robin hurried to Morgan's side, though he still made time to comment on how this moment didn't call for acting over the top.

Of course Cherche was still mostly in control, but her face slipped up. Gerome blinked away enough of the lingering teardrops on the edge of his lashes to properly see her, and Cherche was frowning obviously concerned. It was either for one of her children or both, and at the thought of it being directed to him Gerome wanted to officially disappear.

Of course Gerome did disappear. He bolted back to camp, not all of the crushed papers of hell in his grasp but he didn't have time to care. The last thing he heard from Morgan was a rather satisfactory comment.

"I think that went rather well!"

It didn't go well, by the way. Just sayin'.

* * *

 _ **And so much to Gerome's dismay, it continues on...**_


	3. Heart To Heart: Pro Edition

I think I nailed basic human communication in this chapter, guys. *High fives the mirror*

* * *

 _ **Adventures In Awkward Bonding Times**_

 _ **Chapter 2: "Heart To Heart: Pro Edition"**_

* * *

 _Robin lined himself up before the row of training dummies, nothing particularly threatening about them except maybe the danger of getting a splinter. The scene was unremarkable at best, but Robin's ego was near visible in the way he began to deliberately pace in a line before those dummies._

 _Robin liked to use his brain when he could, but various other Shepherds sometimes brought up events where he went with the flow of a lighthearted and nonsensical moment._

 _Gerome tried to dodge Robin's eyes when he turned his head his way, grudgingly thankful for his childhood shortness when falling into the grass._

 _Still, Robin had seen him and he was prepared to dazzle. In the midst of his slow steps, he suddenly extended a foot and kicked up dust as he slid toward one of the dummies. It didn't take long for him to withdrew a lightning tome that had apparently been stuffed inside his coat and he suddenly hurled some bolts in a blinding flash._

 _Gerome pulled the grass farther apart to see through, eyes not even bothered by the horrific brightness. All he could do was stare as the bolts zapped the entire area around Robin and then disappeared as quick as they had been summoned. Of course Robin was like all those other mages, somehow unharmed by dangerous forces of nature as long as he was the one bringing to life from a freakin' book._

 _When Robin was finished with the training session and/or power display, he strolled to the tall grass and knelt in front of it to be eye to eye with Gerome._

" _Are you sure you still want to try using magic?" Robin asked, seemingly unaware of the obvious reply._

 _Gerome simply nodded, sensing his own determination burning in his eyes._

 _For a moment, Robin seemed prepared to stop stalling already. He took Gerome's hand, leading him out of the grass and into the clearing. Drama needed to be preserved, so the father and son found themselves standing before the wreckage from earlier. There also may have been a random breeze pass through, provide an atmosphere for an otherwise basic scene._

" _It's a common strategy for the enemy to pile on archers, healers and mages. One day, you might have to take the fight in a big field… No room for error..." Robin began to ramble, unknowingly being tuned out by Gerome._

" _If I'm in danger, I can count on Mother's wyvern to help." Gerome cut in like that was just obvious. Soon enough, his impatience swelled to the point he tugged on Robin's sleeve. "Just give me one of those tomes. Let me try."_

" _We'll have to start with really weak magic, though."_

" _Yes, let's do that. I want to be able to fight someday, too."_

* * *

Gerome set down the paper he had been, well, brooding over. As much as he hated to admit it, in that moment he had no desire to use any more energy in denial. Maybe he did brood a lot, and he sulked. Sometimes, when the stars lined up in specific patterns, he cursed under his breath and kicked anything in the way of his boots.

There were matters at hand infinitely more important than his problems. Even though Gerome told himself that over and over, nothing broke through. It was all Morgan's fault, however. Gerome knew **he** was never a catalyst for **anything** harmful.

Gerome did destroy the papers he received from Morgan yesterday, though. It was difficult to wrap his mind around why, but the first time Gerome exited his tent due to personal needs he found himself standing on **more** papers saying the exact same bull as the previous.

OH, SUCH A MYSTERY. WHO COULD IT HAVE POSSIBLY- No, Gerome didn't think it was worth applying logic to. Logic in this situation would only speed the world to its end faster. Try to be selfless.

The worst part about the papers wasn't the fact they gave away horrible, private details. When Gerome read them, his mind instantly tried to unlock the memories he did have of his parents. When he saw Robin or Cherche's face in his mind, suddenly he was a child and the both of them were alive and well doing their best to raise him in an effed up world. When Gerome thought too long, his eyes leaked from all the pressure and he contemplated connecting an axe with his brain.

Just when Gerome was ready to stand up from the tall grass he hid himself away in, his ears instantly picked up the sound of feet crunching the dirt and stones along the path to the river. His ears were good from constantly staying awake and listening to sounds of the night, true, but even he didn't know how to distinguish footsteps. All he could do was guess, and he was at least confident in who to call out.

"Go away, Morgan!"

"It's not Morgan."

Gerome felt his eyes widen, but decided he was in no way prepared to let the shock reach his body language. There was no running from this confrontation, so he readied himself by standing and resting his hands on his hips. Truly, he looked ready for hell.

After a few moments of rustling grass, none other than Robin appeared. Well, he didn't appear from the grass so much as he did stumble and nearly punch himself in the process of trying to move said grass away from his chest.

"Cherche claims that Minerva was reluctant to tell her where you were going." Robin mentioned, still trying to rub the burn out of his knuckle. "If you're going to have a brooding moment, that's okay. I just want to let you know that no one's seen you since yesterday morning, and we're concerned."

"You're only concerned because Morgan told you to be."

"Hey, that's just an assumption-"

"All of you need to understand a LOT of things. But I don't mind settling for ONE." Gerome breathed a little sharper, shoulders heaving and making him want to die. He stepped closer though, hand dangerously flicking with the rest of his words. "Understand this: all of your family connections, and love-fests… None of that matters if everyone's dead. When someone close dies, it brings the realization that all the time you spent together added to nothing. All this does is remind you how fragile and pointless people are."

Robin had been standing there, totally silent and looking beyond casual with wiping grass stains off his coat.

Seeing his imitation father give **no reaction** to what he believed was an effective scolding… The fact that nothing he said **ever** pierced these people's impossibly thick skulls… Gerome swore his blood was on fire from the sheer rage building, though he tried his best to maintain some kind of composure by looking right at Robin and forcing his hands to fall back to his sides.

That was when Robin snickered. It wasn't just a quick thing, nope, he kept going and though he clearly realized it he did not once try and cover the smile on his face either.

"There are LIMITS to a dark sense of humor." Gerome growled, all control in keeping the rage in check gone as Robin's snickers drowned out the insects of the night.

Though he'd lost control too, Robin shamelessly flicked a stray tear from the corner of his eye. He couldn't look at Gerome's face, though. Instead, he settled for looking off to side with his wide smile still obviously there.

"Gerome, I know you can't truly believe most of what you say." Robin coughed a little, hopefully trying not approaching laughter get in the way of a, well, some kind of moment. "Why don't you just talk to me?"

"What can I even say to you?! You think I'm just exaggerating myself, and you don't take life seriously! My real father wouldn't have done that, you know?! He put on a foolish act, but he had sense WHEN THE MOMENT CALLED FOR IT!"

Robin flinched away slightly, rubbing one of his ears after that monstrous volume. At least the smile was gone, though knowing him it was only a matter of time before he wore it with pride again.

Meanwhile, Gerome's temperature was painfully increasing and he had to kick his feet into the earth because he knew it was the only way to keep him still. He felt dramatically uncomfortable and even foolish to an extent, but he could easily brush that off. Yes, it was just his REAL father's traits kicking in.

"Well." Robin finally spoke after the longest minute of their lives, switching to rub the other ear. "No matter how loud you yell, it's not going to change the fact I want to make sure you're alright."

"Where is Morgan right now?"

"Ugh, it's difficult to explain." Robin's face actually showed exhaustion for a moment. "Even though I'm approaching you of my own will, Morgan still asked me to keep you busy for a while. I think it's fine; I don't mind spending more time with you if that's what she-"

"Oh! Now the truth comes out! Don't you see what's wrong with this set up? Morgan is forcing you to go along with crazy shit, and you don't care about good timing!"

"Gerome-"

"Talking to you is completely useless!"

Gerome stormed away, or at least that was his intention. All he felt was rage ready to explode at something or someone, and hurriedly spun away as fast as possible. Of course, everyone knows that bad can only ever keep spiraling until it becomes worse. Well, needless to say Naga or maybe even some other force entirely hated him and was seeking cheap "amusement" by making the right foot slam against his left ankle in that precise way… Aaaand make him trip backward into the water.

Not only was he still in the same presence as Robin, a toxic enough presence, but the plan to have at least some kind of seriousness after all that other bull was ruined by that one moment of no grace. The river wasn't deep; once Gerome sat up, only his lower half was submerged. Nevertheless, he hoped the look he gave Robin was hateful enough.

Robin approached the water's edge quickly, taking care not to fall as well. The shocked expression remained, and Gerome was grateful for that. Anything was better than that maybe-unintentional patronizing bull.

"Do you need help?"

Gerome thought he was going to break his teeth into pieces if he kept biting down on them so hard.

* * *

"I found it!" Inigo proclaimed in victory, hurriedly reeling his arm out from under the piles of clothes.

"You found lewd novels!" Morgan shouted, effectively ending their stealth mission right then and there.

"I wish." Inigo sounded almost depressed about reality, but shook it off by dragging a decorative and huge box over to Morgan. "There's this- Well, I'm not really sure what it is. Doesn't it look important?"

Morgan made some awed sounds, scooting closer and feeling up the box for some reason.

"This could be just like in that novel, Inigo. What if he's like the hero from that novel when it comes to saving mementos from childhood? This could be precisely what we need to fan the flames." And then Morgan hugged the box, sparkles jumping around in her eyes.

Of course, Inigo could have simply been getting lost in the moment. He hadn't realized he had been slumped against the pile of clothes, smiling for seemingly no reason at her. Well if anyone asked, he could always use the lack of air in the tent as an excuse for getting off topic.

"Now, we break open the bad boy."

Inigo instantly fell back to earth, even going as far as to reel in the hand he was about to make some kind of move with. As for making the move, well he just wanted to be the box Morgan had been loving on.

In any case, Morgan set the box down and rubbed her hands together excitedly. It was clear from the anxious look that she had no more than twenty plans for old-fashioned destruction flashing through her mind.

* * *

The little fire burned with determination, somehow not bothered by the surrounding fools. Gerome wished that he had the same strength, but his was extinguished the moment his face met the ground under the water. For the time being, there was nothing he could do except sit there along enough to warm up and collapse onto his cot.

As much as Gerome wanted to go right back to putting down his imitation father, he truly lost all motivation. The fall was less embarrassing, and more depressing because he really should have been able to stop himself from looking pathetic in front of someone pathetic enough to fill the world.

In the end, Gerome dropped his face into his palms and once again hated his life before looking up at Robin opposite him. By the by, Robin actually had his hand extended slightly as if about to try and comfort him but having no clue how to do so.

" _Of course he wouldn't know how to comfort me._ "

Gerome fixed his posture, just enough to not destroy his whole image in one evening. He cleared his throat, prepared to say this eloquently if it had to be done at all.

" _I'll hate myself tomorrow, but at least Robin will understand ONE thing. He will understand it genuinely this time._ "

When Gerome began to brush off any leaves that were sticking to his clothes, he definitely wasn't stalling or anything. He was really going to do it, you know.

"I shouldn't have to explain why your presence is irritating." Gerome began, comfortable with the calmness in his voice. Comfortable enough to actually set his gaze on Robin. "If I have to be stuck here with you, I'll pass the time however I'm allowed. I'll only give instructions once, though."

Robin didn't respond immediately because he gasped aloud, hand dramatically resting on his heart and everything. It was as if he couldn't believe that one of the army's most stoic members, the same guy who previously tried to chew him out, was actually going to play along to something Morgan obviously intended from the start.

Gerome took the opportunity to go on. "I've **only just now** remembered what made my father an acceptable person to be around. If I **must** dwell, here's where you go wrong..."

* * *

 _For about an entire minute, Gerome opened up the tome to look at the weird symbols and seemingly nonsensical riddles about the value of life…or some crap like that. In any case, he planted his feet on the ground and hovered his hand above the page he was instructed to. He tried his best to empty his mind, though it was still overwhelmed with the fantasy of being important like his parents. When the time was right, he tried to reach out in the darkness to conjure wind._

 _Nothing happened._

" _Give it three times, Gerome." Cherche spoke up, tone gentle and loving. "If something doesn't work after three times, you know for sure it's not meant to be."_

" _Magic isn't like that." Robin instantly whined, his offended state painfully obvious. "It could take the rest of his life to know if he can use magic, but that's not always the case. Even if he has to wait, we can still-"_

" _I can do this!" Gerome shouted over his shoulder, unable to stop the irritation in his voice._

 _So Gerome did everything before in the exact same manner, although this time he was completely aware of the loud 'whispering' Robin and Cherche were doing. He couldn't try to concentrate too long, and prematurely threw out his hand to summon that stupid puff of wind._

 _Nothing happened._

" _Will Big Brother explode if this doesn't work?" Morgan spoke up, even with her slurred speech and horrified tone it was still audible and horrible to Gerome._

" _It's just magic! There must be AT LEAST one hundred people who learn how to use it every day!" Gerome growled by the end, and if anything exploded – he no longer had a temper._

 _Third time supposedly being the charm, Gerome did that STUPID ritual with his hand and the concentration. He mixed it up by instead of emptying his thoughts, simply force his eyes to stay closed and huff a lot as if to build up all the frustration he felt. Maybe he could send some of that into his palm, unlock his obvious magical abilities through emotion like something out of the stories Cherche told him._

 _Nothing happened, but this time the tome fell on the ground still open on that page. Technically-_

 _Gerome brought his hands closer to his view, staring at the palms with the desire to burn them. He wouldn't really do that, but he just couldn't understand why he didn't have the natural talent to get this immediately. After all, Robin was really good with those more complex spells so naturally that would have to pass to his children._

 _Then Morgan leaped over, still full of energy as she curiously picked up the tome._

 _What was the result of a three year old picking up a tome and waving her hand over the pretty pictures?_

 _A small gust of wind blew from the page and separated an already hanging limb from a nearby tree._

* * *

By the end of Gerome's explanation, he was staring right at Robin and making terrifying gestures with his hands like he had murderous intentions. He was sane.

Robin was confused, anyhow. His face was stuck somewhere around **what are you even** territory, and the eyebrows lifting toward his hairline worked rather well for him against the odds.

Still, Robin found the strength needed to lean forward casually and clap his hands once with realization.

"The reason you're always disgusted with me is…you think I'm too accepting of Morgan, and you're secretly jealous of her magical abilities!"

Gerome was shocked he didn't lose an entire row of teeth from clenching them so hard. This time, the rage surged to the point that he had to stand and move away from the fire. If he sat by the flames any longer, that heat and his own temperature could make him suffocate.

"I know that some people with multiple children choose which one to dote on, but it's not my intention to do that." Robin continued to ramble, blissfully unaware of his failure. "You don't need to be just like me, Gerome. There's nothing you can say or do that would make me stop caring-"

"YOU! ARE! SO! HOPELESSLY LOST!"

Robin actually cringed, and just to be sure Gerome couldn't really control those flames he pulled himself away defensively.

"I KNEW YOU WERE STUPID, BUT I HAD NO IDEA HOW FAR IT COULD GO! HOW CAN YOU CALL YOURSELF MUCH OF A PARENT IF YOU CAN'T TRANSLATE THAT **SIMPLE** EXAMPLE I GAVE?! I'M ALMOST HAPPY YOU'LL NEVER LIVE LONG TO HAVE CHILDREN IF YOU'RE GOING TO BE SO BLIND TO THEIR PROBLEMS!"

Robin slowly lifted his hand, silently asking for permission to speak again-

"LEAVE ME ALONE **PERMANENTLY**! THERE'S NO HOPE FOR THE TWO OF US GETTING CLOSER, SO GO ON WITH..." Gerome's yelling session concluded with a lengthy amount of profanity, though it was used with barely a few regular words in between so it really didn't make sense at all even to him. Of course, his mind also briefly snapped in that moment.

Gerome didn't know what came over him, not this time anyhow. All he knew was that by the end of his yelling, he was burning with rage to the point he staggered like he could pass out. Somehow, he stayed on his feet and was able to pull himself together long enough to turn and bolt from the scene even in clothes that had yet to fully dry.

What became of Robin? Gerome had no frigging idea, but he didn't really care in the slightest. All that mattered was to GO AWAY. Retreat to the only place he wouldn't be judged for his crazy performance, and maybe even sleep for a change. A good night's sleep certainly sounded appealing.

* * *

Gerome's tent had become the scene of a terrible battle with clothes and hobby-related items scattered around, the two culprits remaining in the center of the tent very disheveled and embracing in front of a broken decorative box.

That was the kind of scene that Morgan had always wanted to take place...well, anywhere that wasn't the tent of someone else. Kind of weird, those implications.

In any case, Morgan sighed happily against Inigo's shoulder and just savored the moment. It had taken crushing, hitting, throwing and biting on the box to try and get it open. See, that's where people go wrong when they don't put a keyhole on something that can basically be compared to a treasure chest on the field.

"You have no idea how much I hope the contents are worth it." Inigo spoke up, sounding like he'd just been the only witness to a miracle.

Morgan nodded, and just to try and ease any doubts still lingering she moved her lips to his and stole a kiss. Just a quick one, nothing to distract her into forgetting why she spent an entire night of her life here. It wasn't just an elaborate scheme to get inside of Inigo with no context involved, you know?

Alas, any romance that could have been involved was killed the moment the tent flaps were suddenly yanked open. Morgan and Inigo turned to face their intruder, still holding each other and making the scene look like the worst situation ever.

"You came at a good time." Morgan greeted, the slightest nervous chuckle slipping out afterward.

Gerome crouched in the entryway, the scowl apparent on his face even with just half of it in sight. Though they couldn't see his eyes, Morgan and Inigo could combine their brainpower and come to the conclusion that the father/son conversation did bring an emotion out of him. How can you make being pissed off sound intelligent? They were both in need of assistance.

"For the record!" Inigo suddenly burst out, not being hasty to separate from Morgan. "I just want to let you know that I was only in this for the sake of seeing Morgan be happy. I achieved that, so I won't be coming around here again."

"He really was considerate like that." Morgan added in, proudly.

Gerome was still heaving with disgust, or… Maybe rage? It was amazing to see him still alive, really. The heart has limits to how much stress it can take. In any case, Gerome was so overcome with negative feelings that **speaking** was a challenge. Or at least, that was the theory Inigo quietly decided to go along with for the sake of not wondering if he was currently experiencing his final hours after being "caught" in a compromising position.

Of course, Morgan decided to ruin any chance of anyone escaping the scene alive. She separated from Inigo, yet stretched her arm to the mysterious book that had fallen out of the box earlier. "Do you mind if we borrow this? It looks like something that could trigger good feelings, and that's exactly what I need."

Gerome inhaled for no reason, and made his way into the tent. The suspense as he crawled over to the insane couple and finally grasped one of their arms was just…perfection. Er, well take Morgan and Inigo's word for it. Sometimes the best way to know a kind of moment is to be there.

"Why do you even have to 'borrow' that piece of trash?" For someone who looked ready to paint the camp in blood, Gerome's tone was consistent and calm. "I'd feel so much better if you removed it from my life entirely. I'm sure you'd like the mission report, so here it is: you succeeded."

"There's no need to feel sorry for us." Inigo insisted, turning to Gerome just enough to show the sincere horror on his face.

"Well, we're all gonna feel silly in the morning like we always do. Am I right?" Morgan, breaking out that knowledge, stated like it was simply fact.

When Gerome had a chance, he breathed so much more deeply than needed and continued with new-found hatred of the world.

"I **never** want to see that piece of trash again, so please feel welcome to keep it. Whatever you do, don't let me see it back in this tent. I would rather cut out my tongue than read its contents, **alright**?"

"Such gruesome imagery, but I can live with it." Morgan gagged on her commentary, but didn't look ashamed.

Soon as the heartwarming conversation ended, Gerome took the fools' arms and threw them out the tent with no prior warning. They cried out exaggeratedly, but at the very least Inigo was able to gain some kind of control over his tumble out the exit. Of course, he did land face first with Morgan and their reward book crushing his back. Gerome didn't wait to see them recover, nope, he just pulled the flaps closed and began to hurriedly change out of his soaked and freezing clothes.

* * *

 _ **And so it continues on… Preferably, it all crashes and burns: keep your fingers crossed…**_


	4. Drawing Out The Tortured Soul

You expected cooking class, didn't you?

*You hover over the back button in disappointment*

WAIT! THIS IS COOKING! COME BACK! *Blatant white lie is blatant*

*In a twist of events, you return just to humor a crazy person*

* * *

 _ **Adventures In Awkward Bonding Times**_

 _ **Chapter 3: "Drawing Out The Tortured Soul"**_

* * *

The tome fell on the random table that was still set up outside the Shepherd's camp for some reason, and Morgan inhaled as she deliberately circled it. She could have resembled a prison guard if her hands weren't trembling with excitement and she didn't smile like Cherche. That "I know all your secrets" smile.

Lucina didn't have any intention to break, and thought her composure was appropriate enough for someone who had recently been pulled out of their own tent and propped against a tree outside camp. She wasn't tied up, or anything like what was probably done to Inigo. If she wanted, she could have ran.

It was tempting to run, you best believe. Lucina could only imagine what chaotic sentences would spew out of Gerome's mouth, but Morgan had to endure it. Not even endure, really. Morgan was cheerful even in the face of death by risen claws, so a new level of horror desperately needed to be invented.

"What more do you need to know?" There. Lucina asked the question fast, get it out before any time could be wasted.

As soon as Lucina asked that question, she braced herself. She pressed her back to the tree, hands moving to her blade. It wasn't as though she expected some kind of horrible ending where all of the bonding plans were ruined by a non-tragic death, but…y'know.

Morgan inhaled again, probably just enjoying the scent of the wildflowers nearby. "Gerome can't use magic, but locked up a tome like it was all important. There must be a connection, and I assume you know it?"

Lucina removed one hand just to hold on the side of her face and look away, feeling guilty unnecessarily. She wasn't sure how to explain that she was both aware and not so much. The night didn't have much left, and they both really needed some sleep. Morgan just wasn't accepting defeat.

"Obviously, the tome either belongs to Father or me." Morgan cracked a smile, though she looked ready to from the beginning of her fail interrogation. "It doesn't even matter who it belonged to! Either way, this tome's going to make a quick path to Gerome's heart! Don't make me wait any longer! I MUST prepare the hug method I'll use-"

"Only Gerome himself can tell you the answer!"

Morgan gasped, just because you can't be interrupted in this life and have it be dramatic if that's not the case. When there was a moment of silence, she cringed all the way back to the table under Lucina's piercing gaze.

"That's… That's so typical." Morgan breathed heavily like she'd just been punched in the stomach. "Of course I'll have to wrestle Gerome for the truth. I should have expected that the only person outside the family who loves him so much would know him so deeply. I'm **respecting** you so much right now."

"We really don't need to bring respect in the situation! Please hear me out!" Lucina didn't know what came over her, but the thought was appalling enough to make her shout and wave her arms in front of her insanely.

"Well, I guess I'll work hard to ensure my next bonding tactic makes Gerome tell me the tome's origins." Morgan rambled, spontaneously recovered from her respect and smiling from one ear to the other. "I was going to do this particular tactic on a cold day, but I don't have time to wait. When you join us tomorrow, you'll see what I mean."

"Morgan, I do want to see your family put back together- Hold on… I'm involved?"

"I can't imagine a better person in the role I've set up! It's very important for the younger sibling to be supportive and charitable to the older one's lover, and all that stuff!"

Lucina could feel her eye twitching, and she didn't know how long it would be before she ran off to her father, not giving any context before begging him to have a long talk with Robin about reeling his daughter in. Although Lucina wanted to have faith in Robin – since Chrom did have rely on him a lot more than a leader should and "all that stuff" – she couldn't imagine what level of crazy she would descend to before it was too late to catch herself. They had questionable people in the army, not naming anyone except one particular family of two morally questionable mages and daughter. Again, not to call anyone out.

It had to be repeated that Lucina had every opportunity to ESCAPE. She could have ran away, she'd already proven herself capable of that the other day when she unfortunately failed to give Gerome the amount of information he needed.

" _But you won't run away this time._ " Lucina's thoughts kept repeating, thankfully blocking out Morgan's rambling in the process. " _Even if the attempts aren't as gentle as they need to be, Gerome must learn to accept his parents no matter what timeline they come from._ _Of course, there's always that possibility of Gerome needing a sudden shove toward the right direction._ "

* * *

"...And he wouldn't say much!"

Gerome slammed the bucket of water down, not just splashing Minerva's wing but also his own feet.

"He wouldn't even try to give reasons why I should consider him my father!"

Gerome reached for the larger towel nearby, oblivious to the tearing sound it made after being dunked in the water and being wrung as if a substitute for Robin or maybe even Morgan's neck.

"I want to hate him so much!"

Gerome kicked the ground in the midst of a childlike tantrum, before storming to Minerva's side and blissfully not taking note of the fact she had an exhausted lack of shine in her eyes.

"I don't care if they roll off a cliff into a pack of risen!"

Another violent wringing of the towel, somehow not ripping it to pieces.

In the end, Minerva let out a long screech before dipping her head to nuzzle Gerome's shoulder. Sure, it probably looked affectionate from a distance… But she just really wanted to freaking shut him up, even if it involved exploiting his finding her kind adorable. That helped more than he'd ever know even with all his skill in knowing her speech.

"You think I'm exaggerating?" Gerome asked, tone rapidly ascending to dreamy as he brushed his fingers on the side of Minerva's face.

Minerva let out a short screech, quick as it was it still made nearby trees lose almost all leaves.

"No matter what you say, I'm not going to accuse you of anything too offensive." Gerome warned her, waving non-threatening three fingers just for some kind of dramatic scene. "You want me to bond with them because you can see Cherche again, I understand that. I simply think it's a bad idea."

Minerva's next screech could have drawn the attention of passing enemies who just happened to slip into the camp. Gerome shook his head mutely, though. Minerva needed that bath if she was to be comfortable living in this hell, and Gerome continued that mission.

SUDDENLY THERE WAS RUSTLING COMING FROM THE BUSHES. If he had been on the battlefield, Gerome wouldn't have kept his back turned on possible danger. Minerva made a much more casual roar, signaling that the person stupidly sneaking about must have been familiar.

Gerome didn't want to even say the name of this possible person in his mind. He didn't want to see the person, either. If he could have his way, that person's memory would be spontaneously healed and cause them to lose some hyperactivity and fondness for abusing the holy art of logical thinking.

There was more rustling from the bushes before something was flung at Gerome. He only slightly felt the collision of something soft on back of his head before pathetically falling.

Minerva was close to roaring that time, offended by any attack to her caretaker no matter how insignificant. She flapped the wing closest to Gerome, trying to put his attention on the mysterious weapon.

"I'm not taking the bait because I'm stupid." Gerome warned Minerva again, rather lightly to be honest. That was before he moved his gaze to crumpled paper at his feet.

The most horrifying thing about the paper was that despite being crumpled, the drawing on it was still visible. It was, obviously, a rather hastily-scribbled arrow taking up all the space. When Gerome carelessly reached a foot out and stomped down to flatten the creases, he noticed barely-identifiable words with a big ink blotch at the end like the writer realized that was a crappy drawing and didn't want their name associated.

Any mystery that could possibly be applied to that moment was killed on the spot when Gerome looked toward the bushes, catching a glimpse of pink hair in a blur before the obvious Morgan dropped behind the bushes. It helped that while trying to hide, what looked to be an infinite supply of crappy drawings scattered from her arms and the gentle breeze made them gracefully flutter around that area. She did slide her foot outward, trying to grab some of the ones on the ground with the bottom of her boot but she was failing miserably at it.

The journey to the bushes was incredibly short and unremarkable, so that was appropriately glossed over as soon as Gerome arrived and loomed over Morgan. Morgan was still on her knees, furiously trying to gather the drawings even with an **unrelenting** and **displeased** frown cast on her.

Morgan kept her cool best she could under harsh conditions, instantly setting the drawings aside in a neat pile and rising to full height.

When the moment was right, Morgan dusted herself off and then threw out her arms. The tension was thick enough to break any weapon that dared to sever it, and for once… After such a long time, Morgan's impish smile was replaced with a completely serious scowl.

The siblings' eyes were locked on each other like someone was gonna die.

Morgan kept her arms thrown out on her sides, but if she was in the mood to hug then she would have done so already.

Gerome kept his nose in the air, looking less like an authority figure and more like that one teacher who will never appreciate your learning efforts. The difference is night and day, you best believe.

At long last, Morgan dropped one arm to her side and left the other gesturing to Gerome's presence in general.

"You're worse off than I originally believed."

Gerome instantly gave up, spinning on his heel-

"Wait!" Morgan dropped her serious state, and lunged for Gerome. Not having learned from the last time, she encircled her arms around his waist and held on for dear life. "You could at least **pretend** to feel better about getting your innermost thoughts in the open! Haven't you been reading the latest research on mental health?!"

"YOU'VE never read anything about mental health!" Gerome quickly reminded her, desperately shoving his palm into her cheek like she was some horrible leech trying to get stuck on his back.

"You don't know what I read! Yes, it's lewd most of the time… But don't think I haven't read a medical book after accidentally walking out of a shop without paying!" Morgan only sank her nails into his hips, putting herself on the path to never getting affection from this guy.

The next several moments were filled with nothing but back and forth, mostly Gerome having the **audacity** to question Morgan's competence at life and Morgan **repeatedly** insisting that him keeping a tome locked up is proof his soul should have been bared long ago.

The seemingly endless "battle" of words never would have been settled if Morgan hadn't blurted the ultimate tactic she had stored up her sleeve. Somehow, in the process of losing her patience she actually managed to do what she intended. Anyone who was fortunate enough to stay close to Gerome when wandering around camp would know the magic words that made him become Morgan's prisoner for the day.

"Go ahead and make Lucina wait forever, then! She's all high in the clouds about you too, and you can't be a man about it! You are so far from a man! You- You're a just a TEEN-"

* * *

"I'm glad to see you're trying to warm to social interaction, Gerome." Lucina commented, notably being very quick to take the seat close to him at the random table. She sat down regally, but was all smiles like she was seconds away from a killing spree.

Gerome, meanwhile, slumped in his seat like he was about to shake hands with personified death. Although there was no normal way to describe the way he looked, he tried his best to keep his eyes on the paper and quill placed before him… He was NOT going to look at Cherche on his right or Morgan next to Lucina on his left.

Speaking of Morgan, her attitude practically crashed onto the side of cheerfulness as she began to ramble about what they were doing. But Gerome tuned her out unless she had a really weird choice of words. Upon arrival, Gerome knew exactly what was expected of him when he saw the papers and quills set up for all. See, Morgan wrongfully assumed that anyone could just pick up a quill and be a good artist. Clearly, neither Noire or Inigo were brave enough to tell her those arrow drawings needed a ton of work if the world survived and she wanted to make a living off art.

The only important part of Morgan's rambling, or at least what Gerome cared to listen to, was: "The latest research in the medical side of the world claims that pursuing art will lower stress levels. But that's not why I'm doing this. I'm doing this because the experts say that mindless drawing can reveal any inner torment people may be...stuffing deep down in the darker corners."

"Well, eff the world then." Gerome interrupted, hastily standing.

Before Gerome could escape, a firm hand suddenly clasped around his wrist and revealed an admirable amount of strength when he tried to break free.

Gerome's frown couldn't have possibly been any more disgusted than it was, and he swore it had weight to it as his gaze met Cherche's. Cherche, of course, had more dignity than anyone even with Morgan's panicked eyes staring into her soul for some help.

"Gerome, your sister certainly could hold back on her enthusiasm…but I don't believe there's anything harmful about drawing."

"Wait, wait- Do you approve of what she's doing?!"

Cherche hummed, obviously exaggerating some thought as she released Gerome's wrist. When she spoke again, her voice was amazingly calm. "I know the 'soul-baring' ritual made you upset. We don't have to speak about that if you don't want to, and I'll do my best to keep my attention on Morgan so she won't get carried away."

"I was NEVER upset." Gerome was getting close to breaking teeth, gritting them much too violently.

Cherche moved her hand to her mouth, doing her best to conceal an amused smile with her palm. That simply didn't work with how **huge** that smile was, seemingly stretching to her ears if she kept that up. And then it occurred to Gerome where some of those infuriating smiles of Morgan's may have come from.

And **then** Morgan insisted on having input, smiling under more control and sighing dreamily. "I'm finally starting to sense a mother/son moment. By the end of our drawing session, you'll probably hug."

"I hope you stab yourself." Gerome growled, falling back into his seat and burying the under his arms while he angrily scribbled.

"It's a shame that Robin couldn't be here to share the 'love', though." Cherche suddenly mentioned, the topic instantly going OUT OF CONTROL. Though she didn't seem to mind, even as she picked up a quill and scribbled like the rest.

The moment was so out of anyone's control that Gerome vaguely leaned his head toward Cherche despite not looking up from the paper. "I'll assume that he finally learned to stay away from me. He must have been lost and confused when you spoke to him."

"Actually, he kept laughing. He wouldn't tell me what was so funny, I'm afraid." Cherche even sounded like she was smiling, and that was louder than the sound of her scribbling. "Apparently, it was a conversation only to be known between father and son."

"It must have been about how to act around women." Morgan looked up from her paper, long enough to reach her arm around Lucina's already-tense shoulders and send her leaning closer to the table on her arms. "I'm sure there's someone out there willing to give Gerome-"

"Morgan, why don't we talk about some of the novels you've been reading?" Cherche hastily asked.

Gerome previously was copying Lucina and trying to hide away into his own arms, but when he heard how prompt Cherche was to change the subject… No… No, she couldn't have been for real. He refused to believe that she was going to keep a promise.

Gerome knew that he would need to summon all his power in ignoring people for this one moment of his life, but not giving any attention to the people who obviously wanted some wasn't really as difficult as it should have been. Hey, neither Cherche nor Morgan knew just how many days he could go without uttering a word to anyone. They could hit him with their best, but he would just seal his mouth shut.

Morgan seemed to expect him to really go along and draw something. Very well, then. Gerome had the perfect idea in mind, holding full confidence that this piece of art would reveal the feelings she hoped to disregard privacy for. Maybe she would even LEAVE HIM ALONE.

Speaking of Morgan's never-ending craziness, she must have finished her drawing very quickly. It felt like the shortest moments passed before her chair creaked when she leaned back sighing dreamily.

"What do you think of this beauty, Lucina?" Gods, Morgan's tone took a horrible turn to smug.

It took nearly pulling some hair out, and kicking his own ankle. Mostly the ankle part. Gerome did manage to not look up. He didn't want to get involved, so he didn't give-

"Even if you look close enough, you won't be able to see the smudge on Gerome's mask. I'm sure you're more qualified to rate his appearance more than anyone-"

"Aren't we having the most beautiful weather, Morgan?" Cherche asked, tone completely unenthusiastic. It was only a matter of time.

Gerome slammed the quill on the table, spilling ink like some kind of uncultured disgrace. More importantly, he stood and cleared his throat with enough force to cut off breathing.

Lucina and Morgan both cringed slightly, but only the former looked away from the apparent masterpiece to send a regretful look Gerome's way.

"Don't get so steamed, Gerome! After all your rebellious actions, I probably **shouldn't** have tried to make at least some of your face be known to people when we're dead." Morgan stood, leaning over the table to hand Gerome her paper. "Why don't you look at this before you throw a tantrum?"

Gerome made a growling noise at her, but snatched the paper regardless. Oh, there were so many words getting ready to spill out his mouth. He didn't even have to look at her work, because if Morgan was involved then it was just going to be something childish. Perhaps a childish demand for him to go ahead and admit why he had a tome. The tome story was stupid, and that was all that could be said.

And then Cherche, not even looking up as she drew, used one hand to extend to the middle of Gerome's back and push him down to meet the artwork.

Of course, Morgan's artwork wasn't really good. She didn't know anything about proper positions or trying to fix those aforementioned ink smudges. The subject of this work was indeed Gerome from the shoulders up… But where was that beauty she was talking about?

" _Is she even mad at me? Offended? Anything but obnoxiously happy?_ " Gerome couldn't believe that thought entered his mind. No, no he wasn't starting to worry what Morgan thought of him. **Never**.

When Gerome swore he sank to the lowest stage a person possibly could, Lucina met his gaze with a surprising sparkle in her eyes. It was the first time she showed a sign of life for a while.

"Say what you will about her usual artwork, Gerome. Despite having very little memory of you, she captured your smile as if she's seen it before." Lucina didn't sound like she was being threatened to say that, and that was the biggest source of shock.

Gerome felt his heart thump dangerously at her words, though. He did a double take, desperately grabbing the paper when Morgan tried to take it away. With this fresh interpretation, Gerome looked back over the horrible thing.

Indeed, Gerome was smiling in that drawing. It was very slight, but even with Morgan's unskilled angles and shaping she still managed to make it stand out if one were informed that was a positive expression. Gerome never made an effort to smile at people, then ask what it looked like. At that point, he couldn't even remember when was the last time he smiled without Minerva being involved. To make matters bet- **WORSE** , there was text in the corner as if providing a title for the art.

Gerome kept opening and shutting his mouth, silently saying the title so he didn't have to make himself suffer any more. But Morgan, oooh Morgan was nowhere near close to letting him go of all these new thoughts breaking through the shields in his mind.

Morgan seemed to suddenly appear at Gerome's side, and she offered a hopelessly inappropriate shoulder pat to him. "My brother's true face."

And that was when Gerome bolted back to camp. It was in that same instance when Lucina and Morgan realized that the complicated guy had no idea how to stick to a plan. As for Cherche, well, if you go along with the gossip that she knows every last dark secret about the population…

"He won't be coming back." Lucina cleared her throat, rising from the chair as if prepared to leave for real that time.

Morgan's face grew puffy with barely-restrained frustration, and she could have crushed her knuckles if she kept clenching her hands so tight. But was she angry? She could have sworn it was just...frustration. Had to be. The entire plan to deepen their bonds would tear apart if she filled herself with negative emotion. She had to let in the good, throw the bad out to be slaughtered.

Before anyone could do any more rash actions, Cherche approached Morgan with deliberate steps. There was only one question that she felt comfortable asking: "Would you like me to chase him?"

"You know he's either going to rant to Minerva, or curl up for a power nap in his tent." Lucina helpfully added in, not having to stop and consider any other locations as if it was just obvious.

Morgan buried her face in her hands, as if experiencing the kind of headache not to be wished on enemies. She didn't say anything, though. For once in her life, to her knowledge, she didn't know which part of the plan to immediately charge into. The way she set up the plan, there were multiple branches in case of one's failure. So all she had to do was close her eyes, and randomly pick another.

Disappointed with a lack of direction, Cherche sighed aloud and walked over to the table. She didn't say anything before she grabbed the drawings she and Lucina made. Lucina's drawing wasn't even finished, but if it was from her hands then there was a high chance Gerome would be head over heels for it regardless.

"Mother!" Morgan sounded absolutely offended, approaching Cherche with her arms ridiculously waving around. "Please accept failure when you see it!"

Lucina choked aloud, and though no one bothered to look her way, she pressed her palms to her mouth in an effort to muffle the uncontrollable choking fit at least slightly. It was all she could do to keep that noise from warping itself into laughter, and the shock to her was so much that she had to back up into a tree and eventually smash her forehead against the trunk.

"I have full confidence in your power to make another plan, Morgan." Cherche belatedly replied, not falling victim to the annoyance that was Lucina's noises in the background.

"You'll ruin the very specific times I set up for each action if you take matters into your own hands!" Morgan insisted, using the kind of tone one might expect from someone being dropped underneath the early death axe. "You're not supposed to confront Gerome until he confesses what's with that tome! I know I'm a **genius** at this kind of thing, but I'm not god-like!"

There was rarely any success in arguing with Cherche, not when she used one of her typical smiles. She had the NERVE to do that to her own – genius, but not god-like by the by – child. She moved in to lovingly brush her hand over Morgan's head, and though that would have normally soothed her like she was still four years old… Nothing would bring back ORDER after what she was about to do.

Morgan couldn't think of anything else to say. She just sputtered a lot, probably drowning the helpless flowers in saliva in a way that history didn't need to know. But it knows now.

"Based on Gerome's actions today, we could be running out of time to make him confess why he would keep a tome. That's why I must do this now, and when I receive the answer I know who will hear this world-shattering news first." Cherche managed to say all of that while dramatically turning away from the future children and walking away, seemingly moving slow as possible as to not have to speak rapid fire.

Morgan was left alone, pretty much. Lucina was trying to recover against the tree, keep any accidental and embarrassing NOT tears from all the craziness out of sight and all that. Meanwhile, that drawing of REAL Gerome was just that: REAL, but a drawing at the same time. Of course, he had nothing to say to comfort her.

But even if Morgan was left pretty much alone for her brain to take in the insanity, she did know one thing.

Whether Gerome would confess willingly, or be put under the influence of some unholy dark magic… He was going to say why someone born to a magical parent would keep a tome of all things. Of **all** things. Clearly, there was some kind of conspiracy going on. That's what families do to each other: pressure people to admit crap they'd normally rather not say. It's been around for as long as history, believe you me.

* * *

 _ **On that note of such beautiful family love, it shall continue on…**_

 _ **After all, no one wants to face the wrath of Morgan should it not…**_

* * *

Hello, readers. Your resident, obscure Chosen Storyteller nutcase is making a surprise second Author's Note that you probably won't stick around to read. It's all good if you don't, but if for whatever reason you like watching me fail at the English language then do feel welcome to stick around.

I couldn't add a few somewhat important details in the beginning Note because of that "original" Spongebob reference, so I'll go ahead and do that now:

The most important thing to say is that I've been kind of sick even though January's only just begun, so that's why if this chapter feels like maybe-necessary details are missing from this chapter...that's because it most likely is. Even though I normally fail at proofreading, the mistakes in this chapter will probably be all over the place because I was just relieved to be able to have finger strength to type.

Secondly, because of some missing details in this chapter...you'll get to see what I'm sure will be a heartwarming encounter between mother and son in the next. Yeah, the next will blatantly follow up afterward while raising fingers for a rude gesture to the concept of proper pacing. Hope you read this one, or at least attempted. I know it's probably hard with the, um, out of control craziness.

Finally, I just want to say I won't let sickness get me down. Even though I'm obviously not a beloved writer by any stretch of the imagination, I do enjoy writing this crap. I call it crap, sure, but I still have fun like I'm still a teenager. Just know that even though life will only make it harder to pump out stories like I probably could have used to do if I really tried, I'll certainly try regardless. Bring it on, 2018. You think a cold's gonna make me stop? *Nearly sent falling to the ground over a coughing fit*

The Chosen Storyteller's signing out now~ Not really sure why I added that mark at the end, but what's done is done! I don't even have a moral, just a word of attempted encouragement for you guys: do whatever you can to survive the new year! If you can get through my stories, I believe you're much more stronger mentally than I am!


	5. That One Medical Tent Drama Fest

Hey guys, author's back to have real talk for a moment. I've been playing Radiant Dawn of all games. The reason I'm telling you this is because there was this 1 narration thing in an early chapter of the game babbling about man vs beast and how they fight. When they mentioned how man uses magic or whatever, that made me think of this story and how I've made magic a reoccurring topic.

Basically, I realized I don't know jack about the Fire Emblem lore ever since I lost interest in the series that one time. Of course, Awakening made that interest return. But now I'm not really willing to play every game I have access to, combing through dialogue to find the lore.

This story is pretty much intended to be what the title says, and I've already taken liberties anyhow. I suppose it wouldn't make the story any less so if I screw up how magic actually works.

On another topic, the events in this chapter were supposed to be in the previous. I was sick, so I didn't force myself to make a monstrous chapter. But I must warn you that the pacing makes me cringe, so it's going to be bad. For those of you out there who are perfectionists, all I can say is that you really need to proceed with caution. Also, please understand that I'm not a perfectionist and that it's a miracle I can even remember how to type. Although, I do consider my typing style...caveman-like on a good day.

* * *

 _ **Adventures In Awkward Bonding Times**_

 _ **Chapter 4: "That One Medical Tent Drama Fest"**_

* * *

It was only the start of the afternoon when Gerome bolted back to camp, stomach seemingly contorting itself and threatening to send his breakfast back up. He really didn't want to battle with nausea on top of everything else, but when he was allowed a moment of coherent thought during his running he did find it very fitting.

After all, anyone who doesn't feel like vomiting after being forced into a forced bonding/artwork session is probably a long-lost god. Also, those people should pat themselves on the back because they're amazing.

Gerome's coherent thoughts were shattered quickly, though. His stomach felt as though it was being run over by a bunch of horses, and he did not like the way his breathing turned into gagging. Not one bit. But as much as he wanted to fell down anywhere on the ground and, um, purify himself… It was his REAL father's traits kicking in and giving him some forced pride about this sort of thing.

Robin wouldn't be caught emptying his stomach, you best believe. Or if you asked Morgan. And Gerome, apparently? The family is weird, please believe that.

One of the medical tents wasn't far away, either that or Gerome's feet were motivated to speed up at the thought of being seen in an unflattering position. Never mind that his imitation parents have already seen the worst of him. In a blur, Gerome ripped the tent flaps open, startling a predictable Noire who was sitting on a cot whilst Lissa examined her foot.

Noire said something, but Gerome didn't catch it. His ears were filled with a thumping noise that was either his heart or blood as he grabbed the closest empty bucket-

* * *

" _I want to be just like Father!" Little Morgan declared, bouncing at Cherche's side. "One day I'll store infinite books under my arms like he does! And uproot all trees with wind! And make fire appear anywhere! And look really cool while-"_

 _That was when little Gerome bit down on his own teeth, and slammed the door shut as hard as he could. If the hinges broke, all the better to make his point clear. But even though he turned to Cherche and Morgan under the tree, he was displeased to see they weren't looking for the noise source._

 _Cherche always told him not to leave the yard unless he was with either her or Robin, and in much more impish tone would kindly remind him that Minerva would pick up his trail before he could reach his destination._

 _Forget Cherche, then. Gerome didn't know why so much disgust was welling up in him, but it was so much more frequent after Morgan started growing up. Yes, that sounded like a good excuse. Yes, Morgan took every opportunity to study words beyond her level and...and show off. Gerome couldn't remember if he was like that when he was three, but he just assumed he wasn't. He...never did anything that would impress his parents._

 _Gerome walked away from the yard easily, finding himself going down the path with trees still bare from the winter. He hadn't noticed that he was huffing so much as he traveled, not until one huff too many made his nose start… Ugh, why did his nose have to leak when he was emotional? That would give off the impression he was sad, or something. If one were to think he was sad, they clearly needed brushing up on their people reading skills._

* * *

Lissa said something about retrieving some water, and seemingly lifted off her feet and flew out the tent in an effort to avoid the unfortunate stench from the bucket. Gerome really didn't blame her; he felt even more ill having to keep his face lined up as he kept gagging.

Noire leaned forward, eyebrows furrowed and expression full of empathy the whole time.

Finally, Gerome set the bucket down.

"You're so strong to still be on your feet, Gerome." Noire randomly mentioned.

Gerome was going to reply, but too much effort made him start gagging again and leading him to-

* * *

 _The stupid ritual was performed again, attempt number probably two-hundred making little Gerome too upset to fully empty his thoughts as he hovered his hand over the tome. He didn't feel any surge of power, no sudden breeze from the page. There was nothing._

 _Gerome honestly forgot how long he had been out there, feet freezing through his boots due to getting stuck in the snow multiple times. He kept sneezing, most likely prepared to catch a cold at that rate. The fact the sun was beginning to go down didn't even bother him._

 _What bothered Gerome was that the training dummies were still knocked down from Morgan's training, and there was no extra wind to scatter them around. They were just stuck in the same place. Kind of like Gerome._

 _Gerome was cold, defeated and ultimately not giving any concern when he dropped the tome in the snow. He had yet to be found, and he never once heard his parents voices or Minerva's screeches. He was all alone to be pathetic, so he did just that._

 _He thought he was getting too old to be crying, but tears quickly welled and blurred his vision as he collapsed against the tree trunk. Gerome hated himself for doing it, screamed at himself in his head to stop even. It wasn't the end of the world, just one failure. Eventually, he just wondered if he was sad or ashamed of himself._

 _But just to ensure he didn't get away without mental scars that would probably give him many a sleepless night, a girl's voice interrupted his very loud sobs._

" _Gerome! What happened to you?!" Lucina sounded absolutely terror-stricken, a first. "Did your parents leave you here?! Where are they now?!"_

 _Gerome shoved his face into the tree trunk, officially prepared for the ground to open underneath his feet. If he didn't die, he would not allow her to see THIS messy sight of tears and horrifying what-do-you-even-call-its coming out his nose. Not in front of her._

 _Gerome didn't have to make a choice at all. Lucina lunged forward, grabbing his sides and summoning all her strength to whirl him around and meet her eyes._

 _Lucina was completely silent, even when her jaw appeared to loosen and allow her mouth to fall open. She didn't look for too long, though. All Gerome could hope for was that she let her gaze flicker around because she didn't want to embarrass him._

" _What's wrong?" Lucina asked again, this time in much more composed and gentle tone._

 _Gerome kept a self-conscious hand brushing over his face, muttering crap about the situation. To his own ears, he couldn't even understand it. Keep in mind that he still couldn't talk without a sob trying to come out._

 _Fortunately, Lucina was observant enough to notice the tome sticking out of the snow. She said nothing, curiously walking over and pulling it out. She had to brush some snow off, and then peek inside at all of the symbols._

 _Quick as Lucina grabbed the tome, she shut it and held it close to her torso while she approached Gerome again. She had just one thing to say about this situation, though._

" _I've seen you training with the axe, Gerome. If that's what you're meant to wield, don't deny it."_

 _Gerome's heartbeat raced dramatically, and he dropped his head before she could see fresh tears welling. He tried to reply, he really did. When it came to Lucina, his tongue usually tied itself into a ribbon while he forgot how to breathe._

" _You want to be just like your father, though. I know what that feels like, I really do… But you can't let that take over your life." Lucina continued, maintaining her composure more than what she probably should at her age. Still, when she caught Gerome looking up she kept a small smile on._

" _I don't want to be like my father."_

* * *

Gerome's seemingly lifeless body fell on the cot, mask slipping enough to show one eye was slightly moist from the stress it had been under and his complexion in general was pale.

Noire looked over to him, still empathetic but also smiling. "The worst is over. In a few days, you won't even remember eating something bad."

"It wasn't food."

"I'm sorry for assuming-"

"Everything that's happened to me is because of your **wonderful** friend." Gerome tried to snap, even though his voice was hoarse and he could barely lift his head to meet Noire's eyes.

Noire cringed, most likely due to immediately realizing which friend he was referring to. But she didn't say any names, no, her own pale complexion implied that she dealt with enough crap to not need anything to do with Morgan at the moment.

Lissa appeared to be MIA as far as Gerome was concerned, and if Noire was the only person around to talk to- Yes, he didn't mind this arrangement as much as he normally would. The emotion sickness was so bad that it made him **want** human contact. He just...had to make sure not to look at her elevated foot that was heavily bruised. Bad for the stomach.

"Noire, I want to hear an outside opinion."

Noire turned to look at him again, making no effort to hide the fact she anticipated conversation.

"Do you- Do you think-" Gerome pathetically stammered, voice seemingly losing power with each word.

Luckily, Noire must have been educated of what's going on against her will. She smiled at him, nodding.

"You don't have to search really far to know if your parents love you. I know you think Morgan must have planned for me to tell you this, but I swear it's not like that. If you ask me if I think you're in the wrong, I can't say anything else except that I do."

Gerome was too tired to make much of an argument, only groaning in return. Noire continued to smile at him, but she was trying so hard to change her lack of enthusiasm that Gerome had to look away as he was inferior in comparison.

Before anyone could settle down and rest, the tent flaps were suddenly ripped open-

"Noire! Do you still have your foot?! What did Mother say?! You- You look better!" When random Owain had a moment to breathe in between his shouting, he leaped over to Noire and took her hands in his.

Noire had to compose herself from the volume, shutting her eyes tight as a rapid headache happened and left. But in the end, it was truly fascinating how quick her face lit up before she pressed her lips to Owain's before he could use his mouth for anything ever.

"The pile of books really did damage on my foot, but Father's hex actually healed most of the damage." Noire managed to explain, voice growing quiet and weak from too much use again. "When Lissa returns, she should be able to finish the healing as if I never got hurt."

"I'm so glad!" Owain demonstrated his feelings perfectly by suddenly embracing Noire, holding her like she'd just break into pieces if he let go. "I should have tried to move the books. I would have been able to reach them, and then you wouldn't have-"

"Owain, **please**." Noire managed, despite still resting her chin on his shoulder. Then things took a different turn with: "I need to save my voice, but I don't mind… You know…" What the hell was he supposed to know?

With that, the couple separated just long enough for them to get themselves in a position to kiss. That would have been fine, of course. Owain was terrified because of her injury, Noire was used to that kind of thing but she wanted to give him comfort. Very well. Gerome continued looking in that direction, after all it wasn't as though-

Well, they weren't separating any time soon. Gerome tried to clear his throat best he could, especially when Noire leaned back on the cot and grabbed a hold of Owain's clothes and pulled him down. That was not okay in the slightest.

"Excuse me." Gerome tried to interrupt, weakly lifting his head and setting his gaze right on them.

Apparently, Noire and Owain spontaneously lost their hearing at the same time because they kept the saliva exchange going.

"Listen, there's a time and place for..."

Owain rested a knee on the edge of the cot, hoisting himself up there-

"I want to die-"

SUDDENLY THE TENT FLAPS OPENED, THANK THE GODS. Gerome let out a sigh of relief, and both Noire and Owain made shocked noises before separating.

"Sorry for taking too long with the water!" Lissa called out cheerfully. There were two buckets in her arms, one inside the other. Presumably, she had to throw the ruined out to hell and grab a new one.

"Noire will be fine, right?!" Owain immediately blurted as if Gerome didn't exist.

Even Lissa had to take a hand off the buckets so she could rub the ear closest to the noise. "I'm going to examine it a final time to be certain, but it's very likely all Noire has to do is stay off that foot for a few days."

"How could anyone even lose a foot to books?" Gerome asked to no one in particular, before rolling from his side to back.

Lissa shook her head, trying not to be a victim of the madness around her. She approached Gerome, offering an arm he could use to help pull himself to a sitting position. Once he was up, she just set the bucket down and handed him a ladle filled with it. You think the army has the budget for fancy glasses?

Finally, the atmosphere in the tent was almost calm. Gerome was able to wash this throat with the water and feel any remaining shakiness in his arms and legs fade away. He didn't think he had recovered enough to leave just yet, so he settled for waiting. It wasn't as though the day could be worse, of course.

* * *

" _Have you seen Gerome anywhere, Lissa?"_

" _Oh, he's in the tent over there. I don't know the details, but he stumbled inside and looked close to vomiting all precious fluids out."_

Cherche sighed, fully aware of how much time she spent pacing around the side of the medical tent. She alternated between brushing any stray hair from her eyes, and smoothing out the drawings and taking a peek at them. She didn't know why this one opportunity to communicate with her loner son was stressing her out.

There wasn't reason to be concerned of Gerome reacting negatively, anyhow. His refusal to show any affection to his family just came off as a quirk. That was just decided before he was born – Gerome would live a life of being so disgusted by affection that, in not so much of an original twist of events, he would actually come off as acknowledging someone's existence. After all, if he really hated someone then it didn't make sense for him to continue to put up with their crap.

" _Owain tells me that Noire told him that Morgan-" Lissa paused to catch her breath. Though she was caught rolling her eyes too, most likely annoyed from making it sound immature. "Apparently, there's some kind of evil scheme in the works? Something about melting Gerome's shield of ice?"_

" _A shield of ice sounds very poetic and useless, but I'm sure the situation hasn't fallen so far out of control."_

Cherche's stalling flashbacks were interrupted by the tent flaps rustling. She looked over her shoulder, catching sight of Gerome being a victim of bad timing by exiting.

Cherche smiled.

Gerome stopped a very short distance from the tent, just breathing the flowers' scent before someone ran over them again.

Cherche smoothed out the papers a final time, holding them securely in one hand as she approached Gerome.

Gerome bolted-

"Not this time!"

They probably looked ridiculous to any poor bystander in the area. Cherche didn't approve of losing her composure, but after witnessing Lucina snap then she didn't see reason to remain formal **at the moment**. After all, it's not like anyone can describe a woman pulling the shirt collar of her son the same age as her and pretty much wrestling him to the ground like she used to have to do to her wyvern when she was younger and went through a rebellious phase as… You know what? Forget that, history.

Gerome wound up ungracefully falling on his rear again, grateful to be free of that forsaken hand on his collar at the very least. Although after all that motion, his stomach did not feel the best. A little lightheaded, Gerome was forced to hold himself up by the elbows and look up at Cherche's perpetually nightmare-inducing smile.

"What makes you think I want to see you again?" Gerome asked coldly, though in his position he knew it didn't leave an impact.

"You fled before you could see the drawings Lucina and I made." Cherche promptly stated matter of fact.

"Will you just drown those?!"

"Morgan did say something about how drawing, erm, I may have tuned out some of her words. The point is: Lucina and I… Even Morgan herself drew based on 'innermost feelings'."

"Would you like me to vomit again? That's all any of you want from me: pain and suffering."

"Sometimes, a good cry is helpful as well."

When Gerome looked away from her, he turned his attention to the tent where eavesdropping Lissa made an alarmed sound and hurriedly pulled the flaps closed.

In the end, Gerome could only sigh and stand. Once he was on his feet, he dusted off his clothes as if he could regain any kind of composure and lifted a very intimidating and scolding finger-

"Gerome, I won't waste any time trying to get through to you than I must." Cherche's tone took a sudden swerve to business-like, though absolutely nothing about her expression changed as she took Gerome's hands during his shocked state and tucked the papers between both sets of fingers. "If you continue to doubt how people truly feel about you, I suppose that's just how you choose to live."

Gerome refused to look at the papers, merely holding them out like they were covered in slime or something. But it should be noted that he must have had the supernatural sense to know which one was Lucina's – that one was held with not **too much** strength to leave marks.

"Don't look at the drawings now, if you feel that way." Cherche formally held her arms behind her back, eyes intentionally flickering around to look at anything else. "I just wanted to let you know how people see you while you push them back, that's all. Don't worry, though. You'll look at them later, of course. Curiosity always wins in this kind of situation."

"You're not going to criticize the way I live my life? Laugh at me? Reveal that Morgan's pulling strings?" Gerome didn't know why all of that came out rapid fire, nor why he felt almost offended that none of the aforementioned happened.

Cherche looked toward the sky, because no one can just look someone in the eye when they're having a dramatic moment.

Gerome was starting to get irritated, lifting his gaze to the sky as well. There was nothing interesting to be seen up there, so he didn't know what all the damn HYPE was-

"Would you feel more comfortable if we gave up?"

Lissa, still poking her head out of the tent, gasped loudly and battled to keep her fingers away from her teeth that were ready to bite down.

"It can't end so soon!" Owain blurted, poking his head out as well and nervously crumpling some paper of his own between his palms. "Cherche, don't do this! I already composed an epic victory speech for Morgan!"

Noire managed to squeeze in between the two, or at least her arms did. Her hands could be seen clasping to one shoulder of each person and then desperately reeling them back in. But the cover was already blown.

Gerome tried his best not to accidentally smile. He bit down on his lip for as long as possible before he could taste blood, and settled for just holding Cherche's drawing over his mouth to show just how he valued her creative attempts.

"If- If you can seriously stop Morgan from doing all this crazy shit..." Gerome sounded awestruck, and he knew it. But for once, just once he was glad to be alive.

"No more craziness from Morgan, I promise." Cherche briefly extended her hand as if to shake and seal the deal, but hurriedly yanked it back and smoothly brushed 'dust' off her clothes. She did not just expect him to touch another's skin, really.

Somehow, both Gerome and Cherche felt an eerie change in the temperature. Just something to imply that elsewhere in camp, Morgan had an adult moment where she realized she didn't need to force people to get all platonic love-y on each other. But it sounded unlikely.

Eventually, Gerome realized they were both just standing there looking like they had no business to take care of. He couldn't help that his throat clearing afterward was a frail attempt at not being awkward. That ship sailed, by the by.

"Are you supposed to hug me against my will now?"

Cherche's smile increased at the question, and that was when Gerome saw the entrance to hell. If he thought he saw it before, it was just a weak imitation.

" **You're** asking if we should hug? I recall you being-"

"I don't want any part in these ridiculous gestures!" Gerome snapped, cheeks instantly flushing. "You're a sick person for even suggesting that! Will you get out of my sight?!"

Cherche had the audacity to muffle an obvious chuckle with her palm, before she turned as if to FINALLY rid herself- Except, she didn't. Gasp, such a shock.

Gerome had absolutely no time to react, and he didn't expect any mortal gathering of flesh could have the reflex needed to dodge the horror that Cherche inflicted upon him. All Gerome could do, being a much less complex creature, was close his eyes and throw his arms in front of his face when she moved in.

All of that rambling didn't really need to exist, though. In simpler terms, Cherche rushed in with a very slim window of opportunity to press a kiss to Gerome's head.

"How have you not been punched in the throat for that?!" Noire shouted, this time being the only one poking her head through the crack between the doors.

The absolute worst part about the moment was the fact Cherche took her time reeling herself back on her toes and then folding her arms behind her back like nothing happened. To the untrained eye, it would seem that she was questioning her life choices. Seem being the keyword, most likely.

"Perhaps one day you will understand how I can still love you." Cherche's tone was so calm that it gave no feelings away. She sent Gerome her typical smile, taking all the time in the world to whirl away. "If you keep trying to find the answer, you might even realize that even after all that's happened you can't deny you still love your parents." With that, Cherche strolled away with much dignity, shockingly.

Gerome wasn't really alone when Cherche left. Lissa, Owain and Noire could be overheard loudly "whispering" among themselves. Gerome took a chance, curiosity managing to succeed at making him look down at the obviously unfinished drawings. Of course, both had text in the corner revealing the names of the "artists."

Cherche's drawing had very little details, looking almost as simple as a child's piece of work. It wasn't obvious if it would have been given more detail later, but for the moment it could almost pass for a mother wyvern who suspiciously resembled Minerva gathering her offspring together. A very predictable move from her, though. If she wasn't thinking of the most adorable creatures in the world, she was confusing people and making them want to die. Still, Gerome couldn't help being...ALMOST impressed that she created this under such a small amount of time.

When Gerome moved on to Lucina's drawing, he took the time to really pay attention. But there wasn't much to see; it was painfully obvious by the shapes purposefully taking up nearly page that she wanted to be done as soon as possible. She must have stayed either because Morgan had her feet chained under the table, or she wanted to motivate him. He had a difficult time believing Lucina would do the latter, but it wasn't impossible.

It was worth taking in the fact that Lucina drew a big rectangle, maybe resembling a house? There were also lines inside as if the rough beginnings of a room. Then there were circles connected to lines in the center, one of them holding a square and offering it to the other-

* * *

" _Big brother..." A pathetic voice sobbed._

 _Little Gerome stubbornly folded his arms, turning his head at just the right angle so he was glaring at the wall and not his little sister. She was only four, so maybe he was too rough on her… But he didn't care._

 _There was no more attempts at speech, just crying noises. The kind that pierce your ears, traveling further into your brain. When they reach your brain, all the logic melts down further into the heart. But the heart doesn't actually have anything to do with emotion; it just beats and does its blood thing._

"You should actually listen to what she says. Gods, you suck at this brother role. _" Gerome's mind snapped back at him, mid-corruption due to the annoying crying._

" _Shut up." Best attempt at comfort ever-_

" _But I can't!"_

 _Gerome threw himself back, eyes bugging out and his arms moving to his face defensively._

 _Morgan stood there, dropping the tome and bawling at the same time. She couldn't speak at first, stretching out the top of her shirt to reach to her eyes and try to wipe away at least a few tears to see._

" _If I couldn't do the magic thing-y, I'd be sad! I'd cry a lot! So if you won't…! Guess…!"_

" _Gods! Are you crying because I won't?!" Gerome shrieked, not trying to make it sound hostile to the emotionally-fragile child. Apparently. She'd never cried so easily, not like this._

 _Every part of Gerome said **get the eff out of there**. He felt like an idiot, clenching his fists and walking to Morgan. He didn't want to even consider what his face looked like._

 _Before Morgan could flood their home in tears, Gerome knelt to her height and pressed a single palm on top of her hair. Just the one. It wasn't even affectionate, he assumed._

 _Like magic – yes, there could be no other word after all this madness – Morgan shut up. She looked at Gerome, big and innocent eyes overflowing with tears and her expression that of soul crushed._

 _Gerome tried to overcome his disgust, not clearing his throat in case of dinner trying to make a reappearance._

" _Would you move on if I told you that- That- I..."_

 _Morgan blinked obliviously, thankfully all of that was clearing the tears._

 _Gerome hung his head, destroying some kind of "tender" moment before it could be completed. Couldn't even show embarrassment to his family, get closer to them through putting all the emotions out in the open and trying to deal with them. How long 'till he died-_

" _Are you trying to tell me… You're overly-sensitive when alone?"_

" _Don't say it where Mother and Father can hear."_

" _Oh! You can **feel**!"_

" _Don't sound like you needed to hear that!" Gerome was about to claw into her head, but withdrew it so he could bury his eyes into his hands. "I'm too old for this stuff, but I can't stop. When I think I might be useless, I just fall apart. When I see the way… You and Father… **Gods** , did I really just say that last part out-"_

" _Me and Father?"_

" _FORGET IT."_

 _Morgan shook her head, the remainder of fresh tears appearing to be drying in the slight breeze. "Someone needs to open the bottle of feelings."_

" _Aren't YOU the one who needs to grow up?" Gerome snapped, dropping his hands and lifting his head so she could see the scowl. "Just get back to the topic! You're crying your eyes out because you think I'm a walking block of ice, but I'm trying to tell-"_

" _Gotta confess: I feel better knowing you have emotions." As if that wasn't horrible enough, Morgan ended that line with a smile. Yes her eyes and cheeks were still pink from crying, but she smiled like all was well with the world suddenly._

" _Glad you can read people without any prior training, now." Gerome pointed a trembling finger toward his face. "Do you see what you've done to me? I'm not getting out of this moment without a terrible, mental scar."_

" _But now we can share your secret!" Morgan clapped her hands once, the sound of hell. "I bet you feel better, too. Now you talk to me when you worry I've got all of Father's attention."_

* * *

In whatever remained of reality, a hand reached out and touched his shoulder. "Gerome, are you o-"

The scream Gerome let out- Wow, there was no way to explain how it sounded. It was just that of pure horror.

When Gerome whirled around, he found that he was in uncomfortable proximity with Noire and Owain. Based on how Noire's foot looked earlier, she probably shouldn't have been standing on it but at the moment she did so without much effort to keep balance.

A lot of possible replies raced through Gerome's mind. The one he was most charmed by involved more profanity, and a strong "you could give someone a heart attack". Unfortunately, words refused to leave his mouth as he just panted slightly and tried to get his heart back into his chest in the first place.

Also, the more important question was probably something along the lines of **why were they wasting the precious remaining days of their existence talking to him**?

Considering that Noire spent a decent chunk of time with Morgan, she should be brainwashed. But Gerome reminded himself that Noire had low energy, not to mention inner inherited demons to deal with. Crazily, Morgan was the least of her problems.

" _If everyone else is trying to scheme, I might as well try. Even though Noire and Owain could have their own right now, I'll just have to get them to eff it and listen to me._ _I could actually be like my father, then._ " Gerome knew his thoughts could drift to the land of unacceptable, and that he should have broken it before anything involving his REAL father came into existence.

For the moment, Gerome collected himself and put what he felt was an appropriate glare as he reached for his mask. He wasn't entirely sure where he was going, but all those encounters with his mental scars seemed to be leading up to a moment like this. Finally, flippin' finally he was going to make his own move. It would have been better if he could use that description for Lucina being involved, meh, he'd take one accomplishment at a time if he had to.

* * *

 _ **And so it continues on…**_

 _ **Although, Gerome trying to scheme may as well be the countdown to the world's demise…**_

 _ **There is no escape...**_


	6. Important Author's Note

**ALERT! ALERT! INCOMING AUTHOR'S NOTE THAT IMMATURELY ASSUMES ALL CAPS ARE A GREAT WAY TO GET THE POINT ACROSS! ALERT!**

Ahem, hello readers. This is The Chosen Storyteller once again, only discussing very important matters instead of a chapter.

Well, I guess I should get right to business. It's just not easy for me to put into words what I want to get across to you readers; this Note right here is admittedly being typed by the seat of my pants. By that, you can probably anticipate it's only going to be more uncomfortable.

Ever since I first started this story, I never saw it as something truly serious. The concept of the family bonding is a serious matter, but between Morgan and Gerome both being their exaggerated selves I've hoped to make it clear in the description alone that I'm aware it's not high quality material. This story has an over-used concept, and you must consider that in your hearts you know from the beginning that it would end with the family reconnecting. The point of the story was the journey instead of the destination, which is something that I believe is a good thing. I don't know anything about good writing, shouldn't stories all be like that? It's all about the destination?

I'll shamelessly admit this story's crap. I've even said so in a Note before, I think? If you wanted to find a deep Fire Emblem story with intelligence and dignity, I hope you weren't disappointed. And that's...an almost acceptable transition, I think. "Disappointed".

I don't know when it happened, but I've greatly fallen into a disappointed state with this story. I can't see where I can take the story without it repeating Gerome having emotional outbursts, Morgan scheming and trying to battle reality, and everyone else getting caught up. Like, how much longer can that be done without most scenes coming off as filler before Gerome ultimately breaks that pathetic ice shield of his?

Honestly, I've never known what it was like to have confidence in myself. I live a life of knowing I suck, but I keep doing things anyhow and just… I try to tell myself I can't mope about how terrible I am, so I take a positive angle. Or I try. This is really bad when I write because I see those other writers get their deserved love, and I wonder just how many levels do I have to climb before I can experience a fraction of that myself.

Even though I've lost any form of confidence in myself and this story, even though I am officially discontinuing this story with very little hope of it ever being picked up again or rewritten with more "skill"… I know I can't cry about it. Not a teen anymore, I have to just treat this with an "oh well" shrug and move on. I have to pretend I don't still feel like crap when people don't read my stories. I just wish I was a good actor.

Ahem, I probably shouldn't have rambled so long. I know it must look ridiculous, but I feel that since this story will never get its conclusion it's only fitting to wrap it up with a "seat of my pants" style Note that sounds every bit as over-dramatic and rambling as Gerome himself did in his moments that were great to write with The Who's Behind Blue Eyes blasting nearby as the soundtrack.

Adventures In Awkward Bonding Times, rest in peace. Since I love inappropriate soundtracks and have the tendency to make an ass of myself at funerals, I shall mourn by blasting Kenny Loggins' Footloose song in your memory. I don't know why, but I already said it so I can't back out now.

In conclusion, I hope you handful of readers out there understand what I'm trying to say. This story didn't work, but it's not the end of the world. I might have no faith in myself, but I'll write anyhow. Maybe someday, I can write something I can actually be proud of. Believe it or not, I actually wouldn't mind putting all my heart and soul into a story and being proud of the results.

Well, um, I guess I should suggest other stories of mine you could check out. I won't, though. But if you ever are drifting through the Fire Emblem, Fallout, Ace Attorney or Vocaloid sections and you see my name… Just cross your fingers and hope for the best if you decide to actually click the link.

Goodbye, for now.

 _*Footloose is blasting in all its inappropriate greatness*_

 _In memory of Adventures In Awkward Bonding Times_

 _2017-2018_

" _Besides, the Morgan I know isn't going to rest until she distorts the world itself if it means bringing her family together."_


End file.
